Alice In Chains
by Subtle Serenity
Summary: -And that was how Orihime Inoue found herself handcuffed and strung up in Ulquiorra's basement, which was the beginning of what she was sure would be a hardly healthy relationship…
1. Art Of Subconscious Allusion

**[A**_l__**iC**_e** I**n_C__h_**a**i_n**s]**_

_**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-  
**_

_**[The Art of Subconscious Allusion] **_

_**

* * *

**_

* * *

It started innocently enough.

She'd seen him- rarely- and never face to face. A glimpse of his form, taller than her, yet somehow lost among the rest- she could always recall her eyes following the clean, pristine lines of his straight back as it faded into the distance. Pride- he carried a certain pride, a certain something that was too regal, too magnificent- in those cluttered halls, crowded with loud voices, the murmur of idle conversation and gossip. She'd stop and think to herself sometimes, when her mind was lost in the fog as is usually was- '_that man…' _ because she had never thought, not even once, of him being anything else. She didn't identify him as a youth, a budding adolescent, a teenager- the idea was too preposterous, outlandish even in _her_ mind.

Through the noise, the fog, she would instinctively sense his approach- an electric tingle that started from the tip of her head, coursing through her body like a barely concealed shudder. And she would turn- always too late, and she would catch him, see that straight line of his back, and feel the cold radiating from him- it could chill her from a distance. And she would always think _'that man…'_

Because he was everything she wasn't.

* * *

Orihime Inoue was your typical teenager (borderline adult, if you looked hard enough). Well…mostly. Or at least that was what she considered herself. She was friendly, cheerful, and well liked. She was smarter than the average student, and had aced her fair share of tests, and taken the top scorer position more than once. She was undeniably gorgeous, with a naïve innocence that instead of making her a fool, gave her a lovable charm that instinctively made her the light of everyone. It was to the point that even a fair share of girls admitted their attraction to her on numerous occasions. She had a fan club. She had never been insulted, or threatened- her friends were over protective of her, of that charm, so she never had cause for worry. She was popular, to the point where she had been Queen of every university supported event, pageant or otherwise Karakura had to offer.

She was bubbly, often overly hyperactive, prone to random bouts of foolishness, and had outlandish taste when it came to food. She would openly share everything she was with everyone within listening range. She was virtually devoid of shame, anger, or any of the like. Because of her carefree nature and warm spirit, she was a keeper of secrets- anyone who confided in her would be granted with a smile and a listening ear- even the most serious problems seemed less than trivial around her. She could calm anyone with that smile, settle any dispute by simply gracing the brawlers with her presence. Her fellow students adored her, her teachers doted on her, her friends loved her. She was the school princess, the residential angel- if there could be living perfection on earth, then at seventeen, Inoue Orihime was it.

Then maybe that was why he wanted to break her.

* * *

"_Alright everyone! One more time! Three, two, one, lets go!"_

In unison, they spun, their skirts twirling about the length of their legs. Arms raised, heads thrown back, a _sashay _here, a _sashay_ there- high kick, the motion of brightly colored pompoms being moved through the air, a group cheer, a well placed split. She smiled, jumping to her feet, dropping her pompoms and clapping with mirth.

"That was great you guys! Miyumi, that high kick you did was mega cool, you've gotten really good at this! Maybe even good enough to be my replacement! But of course if you wanna duke it out for captain, I suggest we do mud wrestling, I here it's really fun and good for your skin! You probably wouldn't think so, it being icky mud and all…"

The squad grinned along with her, laughing at her usual antics- the realm of Orihime's mind was an odd thing, and they rarely tried to make sense of her lovable nonsense. She shrugged her shoulders at them and smiled good naturedly- she was used to this by now wasn't she? Even if it had been in her nature to make sense, they would have rarely paid her any serious attention…that was how things were. She smiled and smiled- because _yes_, that was what they expected her to do, that was what they wanted out of her. She felt the fade begin, her eyes unconsciously being drawn to her feet- because- that was_ all_ they ever wanted out of her. A smile here, a laugh there- that was all-

"Shh Orihime! Look up there, on the bleachers!"

Instinctively, she knew- she didn't know how she could _not _have known. She swallowed hard- and suddenly the midriff baring uniform seemed too revealing, suddenly, she could feel the chill, the goose bumps start along her bare arms. The group instinctively tightened around her, the wall of mumbling girls inclosing her- it didn't work. She could feel that gaze through the chatter, through the barely contained gossip of her cheer mates.

"_Woah! Creepy much?"_

"_I swear they think just because everyone else is afraid of them that they can show up and intimidate us…"_

"_Well things have gone to hell since they got here- especially with that Grimmjow! He single handedly annihilated an entire class of freshman just because one of them stepped on his shoe!"_

"_And I was wondering why the Public Speaking class was canceled! What the hell! How can they allow them to even come to school!"_

"_Grimmjow is awful, but the others are just as bad! Especially that Nnoitra-"_

"_Even though Nel is "supposed" to be his girlfriend, he'll grope anything with breasts and an ass!"_

"_I heard he even managed to get to Mrs. Yura- and you remember she was married!"_

"_That bastard! No wonder she changed districts! And she was my favorite professor too!"_

"_Yeah but they're both tame compared to-"_-_**don't say it.**_ She didn't want them to say it, didn't want them to give that tall, straight back a name. She knew it yes, she knew it- but she couldn't make herself say it, and simultaneously, could not bear them to utter it-not without the proper respect, the proper fear-

But it was different now, different with those eyes right behind them, perched at the top of the bleachers as if he owned them, those eyes coldly analyzing them and cutting their pitiful egos down to size. The girl who had begun the words, who had begun to sound out the name, felt it shrivel and die on her tongue. She abruptly lowered her head into the circle, furtively glancing upwards out of the corner of her eyes. Orihime envied her that brief glance- until she saw the cold sweat break out on her forehead. What must the relief be like- to look into those eyes, and away- haunted by the barely contained power behind them.

The other girls felt it- the magnitude of it, the consequences that came with uttering that name- it hung over them like an invisible guillotine. The girl swallowed, and tried again in a voice barely below a whisper.

"_Well…you guys know who I mean."_

They nodded in unison, the silence thickening amongst them. The security they had previously found by huddling was suddenly futile- they all felt it- being stripped of that comfort they found in each others company. Orihime's tongue seemed glued to the roof of her mouth- even if she had words, she would have been unable to utter them in this moment- as long as she felt those eyes on her. Bravely, one girl attempted to speak, utter the words that reverberated within their minds.

"_Grimmjow is fine as long as you don't piss him off. Nnoitra is bearable as long as you're not alone. The girls rarely speak with anyone but each other, and Yammy's too stupid to be taken seriously half the time. But he-"_

A shudder raced through the girl's body that Orihime immediately felt, a shudder that effectively spoke volumes for the feeling he gave them- the feeling he could give everyone. The girl paused, took in a shuddering breath that Orihime mirrored- that breath gave her strength to keep listening, for her to name it, name that forbidden feeling.

"_I don't know…I've always felt as if…I mean it's like…you don't have anywhere to hide. Even with your friends, in class- it doesn't even matter…it's like he…"_

"_-sucks the life out of everything."_

She couldn't look at them. The fade was starting- her head dropped, idly took in the lines of the worn boots she used for practice, her pompoms on the ground at her feet- it was ridiculous now, to even think that a moment before, she had been waving the multicolored balls through the air with such fervor. It was suddenly absurd, outrageously absurd. She lost the point, lost the passion, as soon as she could feel those eyes on her. Because that was what he did. He took people out of their safe, delusional little worlds, and smashed them to pieces. He ripped them asunder. He gave you a glimpse of a colder reality…it was like-

"_-with…him…everything suddenly seems so…"_

"…_meaningless."_

The gloom solidified around them. The intensity of the silence echoed within all their hearts- the green expanse of the field was empty today- with an overcast sky overhead, the threat of rain had been more than enough- it was only Orihime in her good natured stubbornness that had insisted they practice anyway. And they obliged her. Of course. They always did. If she had asked them to _fuck off and die_, she wondered if they'd have done that too. She bit her lip- she hated it, hated being like this. Only he could bring it out of her- the uncharacteristic bitterness.

Meaningless? That's exactly what this all was. Three hours of practice turned to ash in the span of a few minutes. The heart had gone out of all of them- the dejected glances they shot one another, their eyes never quite meeting. _This_ was what he did to people.

"_There's no other way to explain it…he must be a monster in person…there's no other way anyone can have that kind of…presence about them…I mean, not even the professors will say anything to him now…no one will."_

What kind of monster must he be? She'd heard the stories, the whispered gossip. The rumors around them always circulated like wildfire. Rumor had it the fierce Grimmjow-whose nature was frighteningly unpredictable- had beaten _three _kids to _death_ when he was in high school. For _looking at him the wrong way._ Rumor had it Nnoitra used an empty room behind the gym for fantastical orgies that had involved as many as _ten_ girls at once. Supposedly the reason why Harribel covered half her face was because the entire bottom half of her jaw had been lost in an accident. And him…well…some of the things said were too horrible to be true of any sane human being, much less one who was supposed to be just like them. _Just like them? _The thought was another one suddenly preposterous to her.

"_Mayumi what are they even doing up there?"_

"_I don't know I'm too scared to look! Yumi you're the closest, take a peek- but for the love of God don't let them catch you staring!"_

Yumi was the brave one- she took the plunge and dared a glance. Orihime envied her. She could do it- even though she was like them, outlandishly afraid. Yumi, small boned and short as she was, could do it- but she- as great as she was supposed to be- couldn't even muster the courage to lift her head. How strange.

"_They're just…talking. I mean…Grimmjow's already lit a cigarette…I don't think they'll be leaving anytime soon."_

"_And…what about…him?"_

"_He's the one that's freaking me out the most! He's at the top, just…looking. I don't know what he's looking at but…"_-she shivered with something that could have been disgust or displeasure. Either way, Orihime wondered what it must be like…to be on the receiving end of that gaze.

"_I'm scared guys…I don't want to practice anymore. Not while they're here…"_

"_Yeah let's just…quit for today. Right Orihime?"_

_(Right Orihime? Right Orihime? Right Orihime?)_

Ordinarily, they wouldn't even ask her opinion anymore- they always automatically assumed that when they were ready to leave, she was too- whether practice lasted half an hour or five minutes. They had only decided to oblige her today because they felt guilty about abandoning practice for the last few days to meet up with some college boys who attended university downtown. Were it not for that- once again she would be the lone ranger on the field, practicing alone, sweat running down her face and bangs matted to her cheeks.

Her phone would constantly ring, blowing up with apologies- _'I'm sorry I couldn't make it, something came up- you understand don't you Hime?'-beep-'Hey, can't come, but I'll see you tomorrow okay? I owe you one!'-beep-'Sorry got to go-but hey, can you perfect the routine and let me know about any improvements you might have? Love you Hime, you're the best!_

That's what it was, what it always was. But she nodded her head dumbly- heard the clutter as they quickly packed up their equipment- she felt herself coddled, poked and carried along- _'Are you okay Hime? They didn't scare you to bad did they?' 'Poor thing! They must have frightened you half to death!' 'Don't worry Hime, we'll just practice earlier next time..' 'Don't sweat it Hime…we won't let them bother you anymore! Wait till I tell Ichigo- he'll know how to handle them-'_

She smiled, laughed on cue, brushing off their idle threats. _Ichigo? _They figured she'd be relieved- Ichigo was the ultimate problem solver when it came to anything involving her. Group consensus was that they would make the perfect couple.

She used to believe that. They were both orange haired, outrageously popular and well liked. Cheerleader Captain and the sports star- why wouldn't they be the perfect couple? They were practically made for each other! The stars were aligned, the parents approved, their horoscopes matched, they were widely supported, _everything_ was in their favor.

Their roles were perfect- she as the fumbling, lovable and beautiful princess, he the dashing, over protective, handsome prince. There was the merry kingdom of good natured townsfolk (Karakura), the silent bodyguard (Chad), the lady knight (Tatsuki), the lady in training (Rukia) and the castle wizard (Ishida)- she'd had this very same fantasy countless times before. Whatever monster of the week it was- the demon, the troll, the giant. And then there was the evil dragon, the one feared throughout the land for his power and might. He would kidnap the fair princess and lock her in a tower, away from everything she had known and loved. But fearlessly, the prince would ride into battle and fight for her sake. He would vanquish the beast, save his darling princess, and they would ride off into the sunset on a white horse to the cheers of millions and the merry making of the townspeople, complete with flower petals dancing in the wind and trumpets being blown.

It used to be her constant dream- she would wish for it so hard sometimes, that any sign- any message filled fortune cookie, any daily horoscope, shooting star- she would put so much faith in those words, that fleeting streak across the sky. She used to wish for it so hard it was all she could think about at night- her and him. Ichigo and Orihime. Ichihime. Their names, interlinked.

That's why she couldn't bear to tell them.

She could barely believe it herself- some part of her refused to acknowledge it. She kept it to herself, her innermost secret, her private shame, her forbidden fruit. She couldn't write it in her diary, she couldn't whisper it to the wind. By giving it words, she would give it form. That would make it too frighteningly real, too real to be possible, that would make her as naïve as they always took her to be, for even considering it. She would be setting herself up for failure, for despair- because she knew it was impossible all along. Because she knew it was stupid of her, an insult to everything she was and was supposed to be.

Because the princess didn't want prince charming anymore.

She wanted The Dragon.

* * *

She lived alone, in a nice sized apartment complex on the outside of town. In fact, it was the furthest one from town, not to mention the nearest police department, in case (as Tatsuki _eloquently_ put it) "some psycho bitch tried to rape her with a broomstick" she would virtually be out of the range of help. Orihime laughed and brushed her off- she didn't have the heart to tell the girl that was part of the charm of the place. Being isolated like that- away from them- away from that halo of over protectiveness- made her feel relieved. Free.

She could be anything she wanted within those walls. She wasn't just the girl everyone knew and had come to love, and had even begun to expect. If she felt like being moody, she could. If she felt like throwing a tantrum, cursing to her heart's content, watching bad shows on late night TV, she could. She didn't have to smile for anyone but herself here; she didn't have to make everyone else feel good while she was dying inside. She could afford to be selfish here- and she could be the exact opposite of everything they expected her to be.

It was a five story building, with who knew how many available apartments in all- the bottom floor had the highest numbered apartments, and the numbers got smaller the higher up you went. She lived on the third floor- she'd never been up to the top, and only passed through the bottom going up to her apartment and down in order to catch the bus.

Recently, she'd heard the top floor had been bought out- and she marveled at that, a long low whistle. Rich mofo's they had to be- rent here wasn't exactly cheap. She had been lucky that after her brother's death, a co-worker of his that owned this place opted to take her in. So although she was living here free of charge she still had to make due with a monthly stipend for food and such.

On this particular day as she passed through the front office, with her cheerleading uniform snugly tucked into her hand bag, she was feeling strange again. She mentally chided herself at the feeling that wouldn't disappear as she approached the front desk- she had to be Orihime now, the good natured girl.

The old lady at the counter perked up at her entrance, a barely contained smile bursting onto her wrinkled cheeks.

"My darling Orihime!"

She smiled back at the older lady, waving her hand madly in return as she approached the counter.

"Good day to you Mrs. Mimi! You look like you've been having a great day! And I hope you're not abusing your prescription pills again…"

The older woman let loose a cackling laugh, with a heaving breath that walked the line between stale kitty litter and moldy cake. It made Orihime's eyes water, but she kept her good natured grin as Mrs. Mimi pinched her cheeks with her wrinkled talons. Mrs. Mimi could open a soda using nothing but her fingernail, so the daily cheek pinch she suffered through was usually anything but pleasant. But she suppressed the _(owie owie owie OWCH!) _that always tingled on her lips when those red tipped claws latched onto her delicate flesh and twisted without mercy.

"Oh you silly girl! I hope you had a good day at school today? And what's this- you still haven't introduced me to your young man!"

Orihime's smile faltered for a moment- and she stuttered for a moment- and felt the barely contained heat begin to light up her cheeks. She quickly hurried to reclaim herself. She'd always forget how perceptive Mrs. Mimi could be. And lately, her guesses had been frighteningly accurate whenever it came to her young charge. She playfully batted at the older woman's hand, smiling in good fun- anxious at the heart of her- overly so. The questions begin- (_did she know? How could she know? She can't! Not when I've been so careful!)- _before logic could set in and calm them- _she didn't know._

"Pfft! Now Mrs. Mimi you know the only love of my life is Mr. Sourpuss! He'd be awfully jealous if he found out I liked anyone else you know-"- she leaned forward with a suddenly serious expression, jerking her head casually to the side at the enormous gray cat sprawled out on the arm of an office chair-"he's _sensitive _to these kinds of things!"

Mrs. Mimi batted at her, leaning back in her roller chair behind the desk with an ear piercing creak.

"Whatever darling! You're lovesick I just know it! Just because I'm a lazy old fart doesn't mean shit! You know I was young once and I-"

Orihime rolled her eyes playfully, filling in the blank of a lecture she'd heard countless times before, intertwining her hands and swooning like a day time tv soap opera actress. "-dated numerous amounts of outlandishly handsome men who were fabulously wealthy and had such incredible physiques that they would even make Fabio jealous."

-"Damn right! And it used to be so that I-"

"was married ten times and divorced nine."-she counted off on her fingers.

"Yes and then my tenth husband-"

"-Cheated on you with the nanny-"

"-That two bit slut! I knew from the moment I hired her-"

"-that she was nothing but trouble. Because she had-" She smothered her smile and knew she was home free. This was her favorite part-

"The _**Evil Eye!" **_ Mrs. Mimi slammed her wrinkled fist on the surface of the office desk so hard that Mr. Sourpuss jumped up and crashed to the floor, and in his terror got stuck trying to squeeze his enormous girth under the nearest couch. Orihime bit her tongue to hold her snicker, the corner of her mouth twitching a mile a minute as she held her breath to contain herself- Mrs. Mimi couldn't stand to be laughed at- but her 'Evil Eye' rant was more than enough to slay her, especially when Mr. Sourpuss got stuck-

"Beware them! Those kinds of eyes will bring you nothing but misfortune! I tell you what, Satan has that girl's eyes, I just know it!"

Orihime nodded along in tune, smothering the very real peal of laughter bubbling in her belly- the effort was so considerable it took a very serious moment of contemplating her bald history professor lecturing in his underwear to stop it. Mrs. Mimi's stories always could brighten her up considerably, no matter how the day had gone. Not only was the older woman hilarious , but there was something admirable about her- she didn't take crap from anyone, and didn't let anyone walk over her. If she had something to say, she said it, and to hell with the consequences! Orihime smiled to herself- she couldn't help but to admire that.

Suddenly, Mrs. Mimi seemed to recall herself- she was often lost in a delusional haze once she started ranting, but suddenly she sobered up, and grabbed Orihime's hand so tightly she jumped and looked into the older woman's eyes, bewildered.

"Listen here child…"-and that wrinkled face like worn leather came towards her-"Someone here has it. The _evil eye."-_the words spilled from her mouth like a curse_- " _Someone here has it, and god forbid if you should ever have to be beneath that gaze!"

Orihime floundered for a moment- beginning to feel as if a good natured and daily routine had suddenly gone too far. She gulped, and smiled weakly- but the serious gaze in those beady black eyes was starting to make her stomach churn. Hastily, she patted at the wiry hand tightly grasping her wrist, in an attempt to soothe the older woman.

"It's alright Mrs. Mimi! You and I both know there's no such thing as the evil eye…I think maybe you and I shouldn't have watched that late night occult movie marathon…no more old horror films for you do you hear me?"

Mrs. Mimi suddenly scoffed, loosening her grip and leaning back in her chair. "No more old horror movies? With ketchup for blood and plastic fangs and fake zombies, complete with bad acting? You have got to be shitting me. You ain't taking my damn movies." Mrs. Mimi grumbled, back to normal as quickly as she had ascended to suddenly psycho- but that was Orihime's landlord for you. Orihime grinned, secretly relieved.

"I was only kidding! To make up for it, how about I make you some of my banana and chocolate covered carrot cake?"

Mrs. Mimi mused over this for a moment, and then nodded her head sagely in agreement. Mrs. Mimi and sweets went together like whipped cream and cookies in her mind- perfectly suited for one another. She smiled and turned, waving her goodbyes.

"Then it's a deal! And if you'll excuse me, I have some homework to attend too-"

"Wait a moment! I need you to do me a favor, if you will. Take this."

She paused, and turned around with a curious expression on her face. Mrs. Mimi held an outstretched hand to her, and in the middle of her palm was a single white key. Orihime cautiously picked up the key, balancing the weight of it in her palm. She looked up at her landlord again, raising an eyebrow. Mrs. Mimi nodded at her, as if she had just given Orihime some age old secret. Orihime cocked her head and nodded back, to which Mrs. Mimi turned back towards her desk as if that was the end of it. Orihime stood there for a moment, awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot- but Mrs. Mimi didn't look up at her again. She smiled wearily- Mrs. Mimi _was _old after all.

"Um…what am I supposed to…?"

"-One of the upper floor tenants dropped it. I just haven't had the energy or the drive to carry it up there. I figured you wouldn't mind going up an extra flight of stairs and taking it back to whom it belongs. I don't know if they're back already, but it won't matter as long as you leave it where they can find it."

She nodded, secretly pleased that Mrs. Mimi trusted her enough to do this- and then wondered if it was pathetic to be happy over something so trivial. But had she been in any other company…_ "Orihime? Walking up four flights of stairs to give someone back their key? Don't be absurd! The princess's composition is far too delicate for something so trivial! (-insert fanfare-) Ichigo's on the case! My trusty sidekicks and I will gladly take up the challenge! Rest assured Princess, we will complete this task and return to you-"_

Mrs. Mimi coughed expectantly and she shook herself back to reality, nodding briskly to assure the older woman of her compliance.

"Alright, just leave it up to me!"- She gave a mock salute that was more carefree than she felt- but Mrs. Mimi smiled and waved her on.

"However…the tenants on the top floor have some very…odd circumstances that permits them to stay there. Among other things- well…let's just say it would be a lot simpler for you to just leave the key at the door and get back to your floor. No need to linger alright? You hear me Orihime? Drop the key off and that's it!"

She grinned, scoffing playfully at Mrs. Mimi's warning- every complex had more than its fair share of strange tenants, what made them any different? "Yes ma'am!"

"That's a good girl. Now as for the room number…its _Cuatro."_

She paused- at the sound of that word, dropping into the bottom of her being like a penny in a well.

_[She remembered that pause, would never forget it- it would haunt her waking hours, her night time visions and fantasies. It was a number that would later be able to induce in her cold sweats, otherworldly visions of horrors she's couldn't even begin to imagine then. If she'd only known then! Would she have turned her back and run? Or would she have still climbed those steps to her doom? Perhaps she'd never had a choice. How often had he assured her of that? For her, it would become the number of the beast, the boogieman's calling card- the nails on her coffin, the sign of evil to come.]_

Number Four.

* * *

She hopped up the steps- two at a time, humming idly under her breath. She tossed the key into the air, and deftly caught it in her palm- repeat. The slight weight in her hand didn't give anything away- it was just a key. It didn't give away any tell tale information about its possessor, what manner of person he must be- and she knew it had to be a _he. _Instinctively, she knew it without a doubt. The somber white paint that was glossed over the barely discernable lines on the key, the ornately molded four on it colored a deep green- she found it somewhat beautiful. In an odd kind of way.

As she approached the landing of the top floor, she looked out behind her over the city- it looked like another, far off world from here- sprawled out like a map, a mass jumble of rooftops and sky scrapers. Complete with toy cars and ant sized specks migrating the streets. It looked like an oversized play set- as if she could reach out and hold it all in the palm of her hand.

But she was letting her mind wander again, so she turned away and stepped onto the landing of the top floor- and was greeted by an elaborate work of graffiti that was scrawled against the whitewashed wall. She raised in an eyebrow in surprise- graffiti? Mrs. Mimi was obviously unaware that someone had disfigured the walls on one of her floors, or there would be nothing short of a spree of mass destruction to follow. Mrs. Mimi might've been older _(in her mind) _than the oldest old person in the world, but she was hell in a motorized wheelchair when she wanted to be.

Curiously her eyes skimmed over the words, the hastily written characters sloppily scrawled- as if they were done random, spontaneously- by a kid if she had to guess by the atrocious hand writing. _(Some backwards kid grinning like the cat that ate the canary, the spray can held menacingly in his hand)_ She smiled at the thought in her head, surely he was one of the adorable brat kind- missing two front teeth and freckled if she had to guess. She walked closer to inspect the work, her eyes skimming along the lines, reading the words aloud-

"_**Welcome to Hueco Mundo. Descend or continue onward into hell. And if you ain't got balls, don't even bother. Cause we-"**_

She blushed, and looked around carefully before she hurriedly mumbled the other words under her breath.

**_"."_**

The words felt _wrong _as soon as they left her lips. She felt almost guilty about saying such dirty words, even though she didn't have parents to reprimand her in any way- the thought of what Tatsuki or Rukia would say if they're heard her was more than enough to make her feel ashamed. And then she wondered why she should feel ashamed- she was seventeen too, on the verge of turning eighteen, a college freshman, even if they didn't always treated her like it. She should be allowed to say anything she pleased when she pleased- they certainly had no qualms about it! They cursed as they pleased, did as they pleased- and made it somehow socially acceptable. Tatsuki could flip desks and kick in doors at will- but because she was _Tatsuki- _because bloody knuckles and battle scars were the characteristics that made her the fierce woman she was- it was all part of the package.

_(But because it was her_-) she sighed and stepped forward, inspecting the words.

She traced them with her fingertips- it looked as if it had taken time- they stretched from ceiling to floor, so whoever had done this had patience- not to mention height. Unless her imaginary kid was a giant, then he had to have been a midget with a step ladder. She smiled at the image of a miniature man teetering dangerously on the top of a ladder- but it was all fun and games until he fell backwards over the landing and went splat like vomit on the pavement. She quickly shook the image from her mind.

The lay out of the landing was rather curious- once you arrived on the landing, there was this wide, empty expanse of (graffiti-ed) wall, that sprawled around two corners at opposite ends. At the left end of the wall was a plate engraved with the numbers _**1-5. **_The right- _**5-10. **_And that was it. This message, and those plates with pointed arrows pointing around their respective corners.

She went to her left, grasping the key in her hand as she turned the corner. As she walked down the railed walkway, she couldn't help but notice the apartments from this side had a rather dismal view of the sky. From this angle, the sun's rays, much less its light, couldn't penetrate the gloom and shadow. To her left now was nothing but a sea of trees- she could only imagine what a view it would be at night- from this angle the moon would be perfectly visible. She was guessing the opposite was true of the right hand side of the top floor.

She walked casually down the walkway- to her surprise, the apartments four and five were at the end of the walkway, rather than being there as soon as she turned the corner. It was weird…yet somehow appropriate for that black key. It felt as if It belonged in the gloom that was cast on the back apartments. As she passed the first three apartments, she listened carefully for any signs of life- on her floor, you could walk by and hear the blare of the television, or tenants otherwise yelling, laughing, or having outrageously loud, cover-your-kids-ears, raunchy sex. They seemed to make it their business that their neighbors knew exactly what was going on behind closed doors. But up here…it seemed to be the exact opposite. The name of the game now was who could hide their business the best. She wondered who was winning.

Before she knew it, she was in front of the apartment- all of the doors were white, with their respective numbers hanging in the center, wrought with in black iron that was somehow foreboding. The fourth apartment, Cuatro, as Mrs. Mimi said. Orihime coughed- and in the silence the sound was so frightening she hurriedly covered her mouth. Embarrassed at how skittish she suddenly found herself, she hurriedly knocked, and waited patiently, her heart pounding a little more fiercely than necessary.

She wondered what kind of person he would be- if he'd chosen the side with the moon, he was probably a quiet man- the solitary silent type. Maybe if she asked, he would tell her which one of the tenants had written the black message, and what it meant- he probably wouldn't answer her. She could envision him now - tall, with glasses, maybe with long bangs that covered his face, shy, with rich parents who'd sent him here so he could go to prep school. Of course they'd become fast friends, bond overnight, she'd introduce him to her inner circle, they would love him, and he would give Ichigo a run for his money. Then she could tell Ichigo no because obviously Tenant #4 was taller, cooler, and better overall. Then he would realize that all along he had liked Rukia, and then everyone would be happy. That would be the end of it.

No more semi-awkward lunches between the three of them. No more of that awful, heady silence that even her most good natured jabs and most randomly outrageous comments couldn't penetrate. No more of that gloom hanging over them all, everything they used to be- if they used to be anything at all. She couldn't remember what it used to be like, before that long ago night when she had wholeheartedly admitted that she was in love with him. _Then._

She broke her own thoughts, and rapped her knuckles once more on the back of the door. Once again, she was met with silence. She sighed. It was obvious they weren't home…and Mrs. Mimi had neglected to inform her if the tenant had another key, or if the one in her palm was the only one in existence. If she left, what if he came home and found himself locked out of his apartment? With her luck, at that moment he would find himself assaulted by a group of wheelchair ninjas, and forced to battle to the death with nothing but a pen and a notebook. Not to mention without sanctuary. And by the time the police came to peel his remains from the walkway floor _(since he'd been wheeled to death) _they'd know what a horrible tenant she'd been, and next thing she knew- it would be a ball and chain, orange jumpsuits and black and white striped sweaters, one phone call a month- _puff puff _pass me a cigarette- braids and tattoos- and _'I came to this place when I was around your age'-_

She shivered at the thought. If she just slid it under the door, he still wouldn't be able to get in…unless he knew how to steamroll himself flat and slide under door cracks, like the misshapen characters on late night cartoons.

She could…open the door for him. Unlock it, leave the key on his table- with a note of course- so that when he returned he wouldn't think some homicidal maniac had broken into his apartment. Some homicidal maniac being herself. The idea of her running around screaming and wielding a machete was so outrageous she smiled at her own foolishness. _Yeah right!_ Princess Hime a homicidal maniac? Her fan club would literally commit _mass suicide _if that one got out. The very idea of her being anything less than 'little Mrs. Perfect' frightened a hell of a lot of people.

But would a 'little Mrs. Perfect' be even considering something like this? The grin that spread across her face was the one the kid that snuck a cookie out the cookie jar. A big fat _Noooooo._ That thought alone was what made her put the key in the lock and turn. She swung the door inward, and took a fleeting glance down both ends of the walkway- with the silence reconfirmed, she hurriedly stepped in and closed the door behind her.

The menacing click that followed should have been more than enough to stop her- if she had only taken the time to think about it- but it wasn't.

* * *

As with all apartments, this one led into a living room and dining area- yet the size of this one completely dwarfed her own apartment, which suddenly felt miniature in comparison- but she guessed that's what you got for a couple of extra hundred dollars a month, so she couldn't really complain…

And besides, the room was such that instead of using the space provided, the tenant seemed to almost…reject putting it to good use, while simultaneously appreciating the emptiness. The first thing she noticed about the front part of the apartment was that it was outrageously _bare. _The lone white couch placed in front of the TV-less stand was anything but welcoming.

Rather than inciting in her the desire to jump on it until the stuffing came out (as couches usually did), it frightened her away with its pristine whiteness, covered with a thin plastic veil as if it had been brought yesterday. But as far as she knew the upper floor had been bought out for _months_ now. There was a plain white table to the right of that, with a lone, plain white chair seated at it. The kitchen, while large, was hardly worth mentioning due to the unlived in feel of it. There were no pictures on the fridge, no doodles hastily taped there like hers- and she had the feeling that if she opened it, there would be nothing but cold empty racks inside.

Behind the living room area was a narrow hall- which she knew led to the master bedroom and bathroom. She wondered if they would be as bare as the rest of this place. Everything in here felt so cold and sharp and so…_brand spankin' new _but in the eeriest, creepiest way she could think of. She was almost afraid to even _walk_, lest she dirtied the floor, or broke something- even though there wasn't anything to break. She wanted to take a bucket of paint and splash it on the floor, roll in it and use her body as a paint roller to coat the walls in color. _Anything _was better than all this…white. She gulped as she silently took off her shoes, leaving them as close to the door as possible- she had the feeling she would be quick to do what she came to do and _leave. _

Her tenant #4 fantasy of him being a shy, glasses wearing prepster had already turned to ash. She sighed- with a room like this, a bald, needle-wielding serial killer seemed to be the only suitable occupant. In which case she was _screwed. _It was suddenly a good thing she had her friends on speed dial…not like it would do her any good. But what was she thinking? Serial killers didn't just up and rent whole apartment floors like this, especially in such a peaceful town. _(Or at least she really really hoped so.)_

She considered leaving the key on the table- but that would raise too many questions. She looked around idly, sweeping a lock of hair over her shoulder as her eyes scanned the room. If she had a piece of paper she could leave him a note- but she only had her cheering equipment with her right now…which was pretty much useless. Well, unless she was in the mood to be creative- ripping makeshift letters out of the back of her uniform was a promising idea. She smiled imagining what it would be like at tomorrow's practice, her with a suddenly hole-y uniform, cheering like nothing was wrong with the picture.

The fresh white paint on the walls made everything look surreal- she knew how Alice felt now, lost in wonderland. She shivered- it was an unpleasant feeling- a strange one of paranoia and fear that made her suddenly look up- come to think of it, she hadn't turned the lights on- had they been on when she came in? And what? How come she hadn't noticed there were no windows in here? She felt suffocated- she fumbled forward, the key clutched tight in her palm. She didn't belong here. She needed to leave, needed to leave right _now. _

She tried to tell herself that a windowless apartment was completely normal- he had to be a…a…an albino! A sun fearing albino! Of course, that made sense- his skin was probably super sensitive so he couldn't afford to take any chances- she believed it the instant she thought of it, since it made her feel a little less anxious.

She had the key in her hand- a slip of paper was all she needed- hell she didn't need a pen, she'd prick her finger and write in _blood _if it got her out of here any quicker. She tried to tell herself she was just being silly, she was still freaked out from this afternoon- but even herself knew that was nothing but bull. She had enough of that during the day-thank-you-very-much. The last place she wanted to deal with it was during her time of freedom.

Left without much choice, she hurriedly held her head down and skirted the couch, drawing a deep breath before she stepped into the narrow hall. She tried not to think about it- she wasn't doing anything wrong, she had the best intentions in mind- she wasn't going to steal anything, or touch anything- all she needed was a pen and a piece of paper, and she would be gone.

She walked through the dim of the hall, her heart pounding rhythmically in her chest- and none of that all in 'good fun girls just messing around ' kinda way- but the kind children have in the dark when they know there's a monster under the bed and nothing can convince them otherwise.

She pushed open the door at the end of the hall before her limbs locked up, and like before, the lights came on immediately- the motion detecting kind. It was somewhat of a relief. But the room that met her eyes was hardly welcoming- it was windowless too, and the room was absolutely empty except for a circular bed in the center, and a closed niche in the wall she took for a closest. The white of the walls, the bed sheets, seemed to compound on each other in conjunction with the bright light, and made her eyes water. She hurriedly stepped out the room, closing the door shut behind her, blinking the spots out of her vision.

She leaned heavily against the back of the door, drawing in a deep breath. No luck in there, in that intensely white room- she was glad. The thought of being in there another moment was already giving her the heebi jeebies…and she'd had more than enough of those for a day.

Sighing, she blinked as the light in the hallway finally decided to notice her presence, and turned on, effectively blinding her once more. She blinked, rubbing hurriedly at her eyes, and mumbling under her breath at the sudden explosion of light in the dark. As she finished rubbing her vision back to normal- she noticed that there were two other doors lining the hall. The one to the right side of the hall was partially open- and she could tell it led to a bathroom. But never, in her ten plus years of living here, had she _ever _ been in an apartment with another door on the hall.

She suddenly remembered Mrs. Mimi's reference to _"special circumstances."_ Common sense was telling her that the lone white door on the left was better left unopened. But the good girl she wanted to believe herself to be was telling her that she'd gone this far- why not? Her mind was assaulted with sudden images- tenant #4 locked out of his apartment during the arrival of a sudden hail storm, being pelted unmercifully with hail the size of goose eggs, bruised and bleeding, sneezing teeth into his wet palms, shivering in his soaked uniform- she was a sucker and she knew it.

She opened the door- and was met with the dark. The hall light illuminated the first few steps- and she was immediately intrigued. A basement? _An apartment with a basement?_ Besides being cool _(and extremely unfair!)_ she couldn't help but wonder if this had anything to do with what Mrs. Mimi had been talking about. Cautiously, she put her foot on the first step- and when nothing happened, kept going forward. She groped with her hands in the dark- there was no handrail. She held her hands out at her side, imagining she was walking on a thin tightrope a hundred feet above a lion infested pit as she carefully stepped down.

She assumed that a light would come on eventually- the rest of the apartment ran on that premise, so she could only assume the basement did too. As she navigated her way down the stairs in the dark, she counted the steps- ten steps, and her feet were level on the ground. The only light now was that of the hallway light, barely doing anything but giving her some reassurance. It was fine, the light would come on any minute now-

Shifting her weight anxiously from one foot to another, she took another deep breath to calm her nerves, and slowly walked further into the dark. She felt the empty air with her hands- perhaps he had a work desk or something down here- when suddenly a dangling something smacked her in the face.

And she knew it could have been nothing less than the noose of the boogeyman- he had tried to catch her head and jack her up- he was going to swallow her head first and there was no Ichigo, Rukia, Tatsuki here to cut the lights on and whip out the razor blades, to crack the knuckles and tackle the beast. It was only Princess Orihime stumbling awkwardly in her princess gown, to hell with the ribbons and bows and her magical 'power of love'- she was screwed and she knew it-

She reeled back with a scream, and leaped back, stumbling over something else onto the floor. She fell none too gently on the cold pavement of the floor, and instantly scrambled to her feet, all kinds of horrific conclusions rattling in her brain in the dark. And suddenly she realized she _was _in the dark, and that conclusion was so horrifying now, fumbling as she was on her knees, devoid of sight, hands grasping at any and everything, that it nearly brought her to tears.

But her hands grasped against something- something cold and hard. It felt like a wall, and she groped her way blindly up the surface of it, her dry pants in the dark frightening her even more. She tried to tell herself it was fine, it had probably been nothing to worry about- there was no way that a hanging hand had hit her in the face, from the mangled corpses he hung from his ceiling, since boogeymen didn't keep evidence. Maybe it had been a…a radish or…or a- she'd seen shows where people hung vegetables from their ceiling- she began to hum under her breath, trying to stop thinking about monsters and shadow men that ate stupid little girls. She tried to think of rainbows and sunsets, the princess dancing at her birthday ball, laughing and twirling- puppies and kittens- but that only made her think of the first time she'd seen a cat get hit by a car- the nasty _squish, _then pop-goes-weasel- all over her brand new shoes-_don'tlookdowndon'tlookdown-and_ she looked down and the bloody flattened corpse was a mushy cat cake baking on the pavement-

She pinched herself, the pain wringing her free of the nightmarish turn her thoughts had taken. Her heart was pounding so she could barely hear herself think- a light switch, anything, there had to be something- and then she could feel something cold and metallic in her grasp- feeling panic eating away at her, her hands were trembling as she pulled sharply on the metal fixture with her right hand- only to pause as she heard a dull click. Confused, she didn't recognize the sound- she tried to pull herself up, only to wince in pain as cold metal bit into the unprotected flesh of her wrist.

She paused, and felt something cold seep into the heart of her. Unbelieving, she felt upward with her left, in some attempt to understand the contraption that had seized her- only to be awarded with a second click for her efforts.

She froze in sheer disbelief. She pulled down once more, and barely hid her scream as she was viciously hoisted upwards. It echoed in the dark, reverberated against the four walls and rung in her ears and made her temples ache. Her stomach dropped into her feet, and for the first time she felt an icy tingle race down her spine. _Stopstopdon'tpanicdon'tpanic. _She repeated the words in her mind, sucking in breaths so deep she could have choked on them. She'd just gotten stuck in something was all- just because she couldn't see she'd gotten tangled in something- she'd seen infomercials for work out pulls that hung from ceilings, maybe tenant #4 was a tanned surfer boy fitness junkie. She'd seen hanging flower pot hangers with some dangerous looking attachments- a botanist maybe? The fact that the circular bands felt oddly similar to those things policemen used to contain prisoners didn't even register in her mind. Because if memory served, those were also the things sexual deviants used on innocent girls before _torturing and raping them. __(And then skinning them and using their flesh to make bootleg purses to sell at the flee market, or to make girl cakes depending on what crazy late night snack was effing up her dreams on any given night-)_

_Woah. **Shut up Hime. **_That was dangerous territory, for being strung up in the dark on the top floor of an apartment complex in someone's basement. She closed her eyes, tried not to panic, tried not to panic- you were never supposed to panic- even though her cell phone was in her bag upstairs and she was alone in a stranger's apartment in the dark with the boogeyman. She felt a freak out, a mental breakdown creeping up on her so strong the scream was just at the back of her throat. She wished she could be like Dorothy, kick her red heels together- _There's no place like home, no place like-_

In an attempt to focus on anything else, she tried it in vain- only to realize now something of vital importance. Sucking in a breath, she extended her foot, pointing her toes- empty space. And then to hell with reason!

She kicked her feet in a mad panic, growing even more frantic as she realized she could no longer touch the ground. She struggled, trying in vain to free herself, throwing her weight against her bonds and wincing as they cut into the delicate flesh of her wrists. She gnawed her lip to near shreds as tears of frustration began to brim in her eyes. What kind of sick, sick dream was this? There was no way this was real. Nu uh, no way- she'd fallen asleep on her couch watching a lifetime movie after another disappointing day- was this how she acted after an afternoon eating strawberry pudding with almond sprinkles? _Never again. _Because this obviously was a dream- all of it- she'd been fading in and out of reality lately, so maybe this was some messed up dream her mind had cooked up.

'_If this is a dream, if this is a dream- Kurosaki-kun will be here, and Rukia a-and Tatsuki, Uryuu- Chad-'-_they'd come barrel rolling in and cut on the lights, and reveal to her a decked out basement with colored ribbons hanging from the rafters- and it would turn out she'd tripped over her birthday cake- yeah they'd meant to scare her, but of course it was all a joke- and no worriers because they had baked a spare. And she'd grin and smile and half heartedly admit she'd known all along- Tatsuki was horrible at this, she knew at lunch when her eyebrow had started twitching. (_If this was a dream_!)

…If she were a real princess, she could've been calm- obviously the prince was on his way, all she had to do was sit and look pretty until he kicked the doors in. But she was just regular Orihime, who liked strange foods and even stranger men. And her hands were caught, she couldn't see in the dark, and the real life Ichigo was far too busy smiling in Rukia's face by now to even worry about her, especially when he wasn't on Orihime-babysitter duty.

It was just her in the dark, and her thighs were beginning to chafe, her long socks made her calves itch, her skirt was riding high, and there was a very real trickle of sweat running down between her breasts and along the plane of her stomach that was about to drive her _insane _because it tickled in a funny weird kind of way that made her wish she could wipe it away. Her breath stuttered in her chest, and a very real whimper left her lips and probed the dark-_"Kurosaki-kun?"_- it was swallowed in the silence. She was stupid for thinking his name alone would be enough to save her. And then all she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears.

She smiled pointlessly- until her face broke and she knew her eyes were watering. She wished this were a dream.

She tugged against the handcuffs -because that's exactly what they were and she was stupid to have thought otherwise- and they held fast. She felt the shattered remains of her pitiful resolve being swallowed in the void. She loudly sucked in a breath, tossed her head back and screamed as loud as she knew how. In the dark, the room greedily devoured her scream. And she suddenly understood in a moment that could have been brilliance or madness.

With renewed vigor she struggled for an endless moment, thrashed in the bonds, screamed at her helplessness. Her back and neck quickly grew soaked with sweat, her bangs plastered against her forehead, her chest heaving for want of breath- but the air was stale, she couldn't breathe enough, she couldn't- her socked feet dangled, and she could have laughed at her own stupidity. This was why, _exactly why_- for stupid nosy goody two shoes like her, naïve cheerleading homecoming queens with fan clubs and more friends than she could count- that was why-

In a voice more broken than she realized, weary from the struggle, the hopelessness that now assaulted her-

"T-This was why….there were no windows."

No windows, no openings, a lone basement that perhaps only god knew about. No windows, no openings, closed in, cut off- because this way…nobody could hear her scream.

"_**How perceptive. That is correct."**_

The words didn't drown in the dark as her screams had done. Instead, they seemed to come from the midst of the dark itself- seemed to be the very voice of that nameless void. Something cold sunk into the bottom of her, some invisible pressure that smothered her. She felt the fade begin- the dark got darker, and the unspoken words seemed to die on her tongue. She dared not raise her eyes. A cold bead of sweat ran down the back of her neck, and down the already soaked back of her shirt through her weary shoulder blades. She was suddenly feverish- so hot she shivered, could feel the hairs standing up on the back of her neck.

She had no idea if she was more afraid than she'd ever been in this moment, or more alive than she'd ever felt. She wanted to burst into tears and smile in relief at the same time. And she wanted to curse herself, for the pathetic sight she had to be, tears in her eyes- her voice hoarse from the might of that scream- sweaty and filthy, the proof of her struggle.

His voice was crisp, cold, and exact- even the true voice of the dark, of the boogeyman himself, had to be more welcoming in her ears than his was. It was everything she had imagined it would be- and it was nothing like that. Even in her wildest dreams- it had never been like that- the cold in his words could have frozen the very marrow in her bones, the detachment in his voice, from her, from life, from everything- because he wasn't like her, he didn't give a damn about the trivial world, he was free of it, so wonderfully free-

"_**Onna. Look at me."**_

And the chills ran down her spine, a pure electric chill that made her already heated skin _burn_. She was glad he'd allowed her to look at him, to finally look up at him- and her head raised, followed the trail of that enigmatic voice- and standing there at the head of those steps, the fluorescent light behind him illuminating his form, hands shoved deep into his pockets, that inky black halo of hair, that ramrod straight back- and those eyes-

Those eyes she'd seen more in her dreams in the last couple of months, than she had seen of her prince's in the last couple of _years._ Those eyes that made her forget how to breathe for a moment that swept her everything away as she drowned in them, those vivid green emeralds that pronounced everything in the world as little more than filth. Those eyes, looking at her, _finally _looking at her- and she was left gaping, eyes wide, heart shuddering to a halt in her chest.

"_**Orihime Inoue."**_

And she starred at him dumbly, mouth agape, eyes frozen wide. Was that her name? Her name, coming from those lips, with the same breath he had used to pronounce her and others like her as trash? _Orihime Inoue._ As if he were categorizing a specimen, analyzing something that he couldn't even associate with reality. That was how he said it- as if she didn't exist, as if he were reading a name from a crumbling tombstone. There was no reverence in it, no awe. No respect or admiration. Just those empty words she used to identify herself. Yeah that's what they always were, had always been- why ahd she allowed herself to think any different?

And she was expected to do the same- and suddenly, the words were easy, breathtakingly easy beneath the glow of those emerald eyes, those cold, flat eyes. She knew she couldn't win. She _knew_ it.

_"U…Ulquiorra-san?"_

Yes- the way she'd said his name betrayed her. Her heart stuttered to life and began to pound once more, the heat flooded her face and the electric tingle raced up and down her arms. She tried to squash it- but his eyes zeroed in on her and she was lost.

"_**Seeing as how you have intruded into my personal quarters, I will to see to it that you thoroughly explain yourself."**_

He came down the steps slowly, at his leisure with an otherworldly grace that was like a god descending. But she was stupid to think that. He was more suited for hell.

As those green eyes drew towards her, her knees began to waver. Were she standing, she would have fallen. Were she able to speak again, all words would have left her by now. She went limp in her bonds, suddenly more painfully aware of her body than she had ever been. When he reached the bottom of the steps, of its own volition, the door to the basement closed with nothing short of finality.

And then complete darkness descended upon them. If she thought she'd known it before, she was sorely mistaken. _This_ was _it_. Something hard bit into the unprotected flesh of her palms- the key that had been tightly grasped in her hand slid from her loosened fist and clattered to the floor. And that was the kiss of death.

The princess was trapped in the dark with the dragon.

* * *

_"And that was how Orihime Inoue found herself handcuffed and strung up in Ulquiorra's basement, which was the beginning of what she was sure to be a hardly healthy relationship…"_

_-quote me on that. _

_To those wondering: WTF BETCH YO ASS AIN'T BEEN UPDATIN SHET LATELY AND YO ROLL UP IN HERR WITH DIS SHET! You're 97% right. I've had a shit load to do (my ass be going to college next year!) but I'm getting on my other stuff. word to yo mama. But this gais, is a PENANCE FIC. Basically, when you're on a specific forum, and told specifically not to do something and someone catches you doing it (CAPSLOCK/lapslock anyone?) They have a right to make you PAY. Usually it's via fanfic/fanart...guess which one I got asked to do? And of COURSE bitch was like: ''Hey don't you lyke, right Ulquihime?" My response? "Shit." I've already got that Segunda Etapa/sacrficial maiden request fic lined up to post (I've already written five chapters HELLZ YEAH) and then I get busted with this 'ish. _

_Her premise? Orihime tied up in Ulquiorra's basement. BOOM. Yeah, I dropped the bomb. Oh and for whatever reason, she has to be a masochist aka TIED UP AND LIKING IT. Oh and of course, ALL PLOT MUST LEAD TO SMUT. Aw hell. She had to be legal, this had to be semi-high school esque (Cheerleaders! Popular kids! Yadda Yadda Blah!) Also, there has to be something up with our favorite emospada and his crew -le gasp!- Maybe they're vampires! THAT'S RIGHT BITCHES THEY MOTHA FUGGIN SPARKLE. Dunno. I'll figure it out later. Tell me what you think thus far!_

_DISCLAIMER: BITCHES I OWN NOTHING BUT THE DAMN PLOTLINE. Kubo Tite stop calling my house you ain't gettin a damn penny outta me!  
_


	2. Innocence Is No Excuse

**[A**_l__**iC**_e** I**n_C__h_**a**i_n**s]**_

_**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**_

_**[Innocence Is No Excuse]**_

_**

* * *

**_

_**

* * *

**_

The dark descended upon them as heavily as a starless night, a moonless night, devoid of wind, comfort- hope. That door closing with such an air of finality- _Abandon hope all ye who enter here._ The words over her own personal portal to hell. A hell she had been looking for, a hell she had been awaiting, had seen coming for so long now it amazed her how unprepared she found herself. She'd sought out the Dragon- intentionally or no- and she had no other choice now but to burn in its hell fire. Had she expected anything less? _( Dare she had hoped for anything more?)_

Haha! She wanted to skip, run madly around the room, '_nananananana! In yo faise! _There were honestly no words for how crazy she had to be, for how _insane _she had to be. Where had the reason, the morals gone?

Her ragged intake of breath was the only sound in the dark. Her sweat soaked t-shirt clung to her like a second skin- she wanted to calm her heaving chest, to soothe her pounding heart- and yet she wanted to keep this feeling, this forbidden feeling in her gut. She was tied up, strung up in the dark- alone- with him. With _him. _If they knew- if her friends knew- picturing the disbelief on their faces almost made her smile. They would hardly believe her- maybe they would be disgusted, horrified even. Because really- their darling, darling princess was really-

"_**Orihime Inoue. You will explain yourself."**_

_You will. _And she would. There was no begging, pleading, no-please-and-thank-you-sir. It was a curt demand, one for which he not only deserved an answer, but expected her to have one readily available. There was no pity for her, no compassion- the brutality of that thinly veiled command could have made the most steadfast in step falter, made the most docile bristle with something that was not quite rage. The intent behind the words was obvious- _I am Lord and Master here. And you will answer to me._

And that was how it needed to be, how it should be. The owner of that cold voice, that ramrod straight back, that lithe form laced with something that could have easily brought her to her knees. Were she able to stand, she would have long since been on them, she could barely believe now from whence the courage had come to finally meet his eyes- months of sly glances, of faltering steps in the wake of his shadow, of hiding around corners, praying for a glance of that form striding away from her with that abnormal grace. She'd saved that feeling, had re-imagined the man behind that stare countless times- but the reality was far beyond the scope of her imagination. Even she could not have made up that passion less glance.

She wanted to search the dark for him, blindly, seeing with her hands. She wanted to find him, feel the expanse of him. He would be cold. His skin would freeze her fingertips, like pressing them to freshly fallen snow. She wanted to- her lips against his. She wondered if it would be like kissing an ice cube. And she wanted to-

"_**Onna. I will not repeat myself."**_

She snapped to attention hastily- if she let herself wander for anything less than a second- that was all it would take. Nothing, absolutely nothing, held his interest for long. If she didn't do something, say something- he would regard her anew with that passing and disregarding glance. _Trash. _Because in his eyes that's what they all were- they were all alike. Filth. Was it purely selfishness then? To this cold, being- What was it?

She stuttered for a moment, the words lost- she could only stare blankly at him- and not in that cute, confused way she showed everyone else. No…he was better than that. He deserved more than that. There would be no flowery words from him, nor should she expect to give any in return. She thought about her typical response- giggle giggle, say something cute- cock her head, playfully flustered- _'What a coincidence! She hadn't been strung up like this since she'd gotten it into her head to find out what being a human piñata was like. Not fun. Little kids with bats didn't have mercy for a stuffed donkey, much lest a cheerleader hanging from a tree upside down. She'd been feeling particularly outrageous that day…must've been the sugar toasted wheat thins she'd been eating…speaking of those things, the brand maker had to be the biggest liar on the planet! One hundred calories? The Blasphemy!'_

She didn't know what to say- she couldn't talk to him like she talked to everyone else. He wasn't her friend. She couldn't amuse him with her daily trifles, her adorable monologues, her outlandish thoughts. He would scoff at them, make them even more absurd than they were supposed to be. He wasn't her friend, her comrade…he wasn't even her classmate. She'd never spoken to him face to face since…..heck, she'd never even fully looked him in the face.

How would that imaginary princess have survived in the realm of the dragon? He wouldn't have cared about her title, her beauty, her accomplishments- that beast wouldn't have given a damn about the people she loved, nor the ones who loved her. How did you speak with something like that?

It was almost _'haha'_ funny. She had to remind herself that some hidden, deep, dark, stupid part of her had been waiting for something like this.

He was waiting- there was no movement- just an eerie expectant silence. She would tell him nothing but the truth. She swallowed, the dry gulp doing nothing to alleviate her parched throat. She fumbled for a moment- in the dark, she couldn't see his eyes- those vivid green eyes should have been beacons in the night- she couldn't see them- and it made her anxious. Goosebumps once again broke out along the length of her skin. She instinctively knew that before the words left her mouth they would sound weak in the dark. Scared. Pathetic.

"Well um…Ul-Ulquiorra-san I-I live here- on the third floor- I mean…I had no idea that you-"

"_**Spare me the trivialities Onna."**_

His voice was suddenly so close to her ear that she nearly bit her tongue off in surprise- she whipped her head around instantly to the side from which she'd heard his voice- even though she felt that as suddenly as he been there, he had once more faded into the gloom. The beat of her heart began to quicken again- when she heard a strange click, she winced as a light exploded overhead. She blinked owlishly in the sudden light, craning her neck backwards to look upwards at the single light illuminating her form- it was perfectly angled, bathing her in a halo of white light- while the rest of the room remained in complete shadow. It made her feel even more uncomfortable due to the fact that she was suddenly made aware of the small tidbit that he could see her perfectly- while she had no idea where in that darkness he was.

She squirmed in her bonds, feeling extremely awkward now- and her arms were beginning to hurt from holding her weight- she could just barely touch the ground with the tips of her toes, but she could only imagine how ridiculous she must appear to him- like a pig hung up for the slaughter. Her eyes searched the dark anxiously, and she gulped despite herself. Somewhere, in that darkness he was- watching her. Just…_watching her. _

"I'm sorry I was just…you dropped your k-key so I thought I'd bring it to you-"

"_**If that was merely the case, simply sliding it beneath the door would have been sufficient. It was completely unnecessary to enter my dwelling of your own free will."**_-yeah but she thought of that! She didn't know he had a spare-"_**Based on this assumption, you entered based on some misguided reasoning, or to perform some manner of mischief- and by appearances- it was the latter."**_

He didn't expand on his point- she blushed to the roots of her ginger colored hair and looked down at her socked feet- the fact that she was literally strapped to his wall seemed irrefutable proof. She tried to imagine what he must be thinking- arriving home to find a school mate he'd only seen from a distance, strapped to the wall of his basement. The thought was suddenly so hilarious, she cracked a smile- how stupid could she get? Maybe she was going crazy, maybe she was losing her mind- and then he was on her- she blinked and he was there. Blinked, and those impossibly vivid emerald eyes were staring her right in the face. The smile literally shriveled up and faded from her face. The blood- the heat left- she closed her mouth abruptly and whipped her head back- those eyes, this close to her, were too intense, literally boggling her mind.

He stepped forward into the light, and for the first time she got a good, hard look at the enigma that had plagued her since the year began. The green eyed monster that had haunted her thoughts and dreams, that had seeped into the darkest corners of her most disturbing fantasies and nightmares. Ulquiorra Schiffer.

His skin- she could feel the cold, radiating off of him like a tangible thing- the ghostly white pallor of his skin- was the color of a fresh corpse. Those blank eyes, soulless, passionless- that face, that exquisitely beautiful face- made even more so by the frigid expression ghosted along its planes. That face that was frozen over- devoid of emotion, life, anything remotely human-marred by an unchanging perpetual frown. The inky black bangs of his hair was almost casually draped over his forehead- but there was nothing casual about him.

The crisp white collared shirt was visibly perfect- without so much as a single wrinkle- the hands casually shoved into the pockets of those perfectly creased black slacks- she had seen the length of those long fingers, spindly, with black tipped fingernails. There was even a cold fluidity in his every movement- from that one step from the dark to the light surrounding her, every movement was precise and controlled. It made perfect sense to her now- the bareness of the apartment, as if its owner did not "live" there- for him an apartment was a place to dwell, not to sustain with comforts. She didn't know him but… how _like him_ it seemed.

He stood silently in front of her, unflinchingly staring at her, allowing his eyes to unabashedly run up and down the length of her form. She shivered beneath his scrutiny- but refused to look away from his eyes- even though she could feel her legs begin to tremble- her resolve wavering to ash.

"_**You find yourself in a compromising position, at the mercy of a being who is only discernible to you by name. And yet you find this amusing? Onna. I do not think you fully comprehend your current situation."**_

And she lost her breath. He stepped closer to her- she felt her legs turn to mush as he casually removed his hand from his pocket- the simplicity of that action was more than enough to make her hastily draw her tongue over her lips. He was looking at her but not at her- past her, into her- and dear god the heat was _burning in her veins!_ He was close now, too close- she clenched her thighs together, ground them together because this wasn't allowed, this wasn't allowed-

_Too close to her, too close!_- she couldn't look at him as he leaned forward, turned her head away and slammed her eyes shut- but his clothed chest drew closer to hers, and she could feel the cold radiating from him- and she smothered a sound far too inhuman to be coming from her, a barely concealed whimper, an incoherent plea- her face was on fire, her entire body was on fire- _dear god_ was he going to touch her? If he so much as put a finger on her she would _explode_ into flames she _would_- her chest ached, those awkward breasts boys had worshiped and girls had envied felt too heavy for her frame- she didn't know what this feeling was, she couldn't take it she couldn't-

And then that cold hand encircled her wrist, and the liquid heat overwhelmed her.

* * *

He freed her in silence.

He had given her a moment to collect herself after her embarrassing display- needless to say, by that time, she had been so utterly baffled, ashamed- she could barely stumble to her feet at his call, could barely comprehend his words- not that he said anything more. Just unclamped her- and when she toppled to the floor, a babbling mess, her thighs clenched tight with her secret shame- she had nothing to say. Her burning face, ragged breath- was it enough? Was it more than enough? It seemed as if there was no way he couldn't have known- he _had_ to know- she couldn't tell by the aura of him- he was too cold to read- that expressionless face could have held anything from disgust to contempt.

She didn't say anything as he silently led her up the stairs- she was content to follow in his soundless wake. He stood in the hall to await her ascension, then silently reached behind her to close the basement door. Her face was one mess of boiling nerves and shame, her sun tinted skin now a deep crimson- she hastily moved out of his way, shuffling as fast as she could. She felt heavy, languid- and the sudden calm from her body was frightening- especially when her mind was in hyper drive. He stood behind her as she hurriedly scuffled across the floor in her socks, hastily sliding her feet into her shoes. All done in the heaviest silence she ever had to bear. She grabbed her pack from the floor, slung it onto her back- the silence was a living, tangible thing- she could have touched it, this heavy silence.

She wondered why he hadn't said anything- why he wouldn't say anything- what now? What of this? Did they leave it like this? Was she supposed to just…leave? Without saying anything, without acknowledging anything? If she let it go like this, this was how it would remain- it would just go back to normal- she would have to go back to normal- back to denial. Because princess's didn't do things like this, didn't do things like what she had done- she felt so dirty, so _deliciously_ dirty- and in this filth was a freedom she had wanted, had craved since she knew how to crave- had wanted but didn't know she had wanted- until now.

She couldn't believe it _(but she wanted to)_- this had to be a dream, that couldn't possibly have just happened- that couldn't possibly have been real- she flushed darker at the thought of it. _(A single touch! The girl who was constantly told that she had the body and-surely- some innate sexual prowess to rival that of a sex goddess- had, at only a single touch-) _

She felt almost light headed from the ridiculous amount of blood she was sure was pooling into her head- she didn't want to recall that moment- didn't want to relive it- but she knew she would. She knew she would- nothing in her wildest fantasies could match the feel of him- the feeling of those cold hands as they encircled her wrist-_(- as they encircled her waist, her entire body, the heat from her burning flesh cooled and ignited by the cold in those fingers- those-) _– and she gnawed fiercely on her bottom lip to calm herself- calm herself because _stupid girl the man you're fantasizing about is right behind you and waiting for you to get the french toast out of his apartment._

She envisioned her arm in motion, watched her palm settle around the door knob- it seemed like an eternity before it actually happened in reality. She hated this silence, this cold detached silence that would lead to her dismissal- but there was _something _about that chill knowing his eyes were resting on her back. She made no move to open the door.

If she let it stay like this- she knew this would be the first, last, and only time. And she didn't…she didn't want that. She didn't know why she wanted that. _(And she was lying to herself because she knew exactly why she wanted that.) _ She tried to muster her legs to move- to turn- but it was as if her bones had turned to jelly beneath her flesh. Her very insides felt like nothing short of rotating mush in her belly, her blood slow and lazy now, that liquid heat cooled to a sated blaze. And he didn't know- did he? _Did he?_ The question plagued her- she felt a cheek- it burned beneath her palm. Did he know enough about girls too know? Could he possibly know? That immovable blush on her face- _could he? Did he?_

She turned suddenly- and he was right there in front of her. She gasped and pressed her back flush against the door- her dazed grey orbs hesitantly meeting his. His face was blank- too blank- when he spoke.

"_**This situation will not repeat itself. In the unlikely occurrence that I once again find you violating my premises without my explicit permission, I will not be so lenient. Do I make myself clear Onna?"**_

Her heart seemed lodged into her throat as she tucked her head, staring down at her feet- but it was no longer any use, he'd already seen it- she scraped the bottom of her rapidly dissolving brain for words _(say something! Anything! Weather! Ice Cream! Pull a Rukia! Lie woman! Lie!)_-but her inner voice might as well have been silent. She failed miserably.

" L-Listen I-" _(Listen? To what? There was nothing to say!)_

A pale hand collided with the door beside her head- and she jumped instinctively, her head shooting upwards to once more be assaulted by those vivid green eyes. This close- not just to his eyes but to him, like this, _again _made her body rouse back to life. She struggled to control herself, to measure her breath- she averted her eyes to the floor. She felt as if she had been pinned to the wall- she was hovering against it so, pressed as far back as it allowed her, to give her some fleeting comfort, some space- but he didn't care about her space or her needs- he had given her a command and-

"_**Do not make me repeat myself."**_

-he didn't like to repeat himself. She bobbed her head up and down awkwardly, trembling in his shadow- like some pathetic, frail thing- this was why- without someone around to shelter her, to protect her- she was like this. This was how she really was- the princess was only bold amongst her company- alone she was a spineless coward. And he was too much of everything she wasn't- she sucked in a breath, and kept her gaze rooted on the floor- she couldn't meet his eyes again.

"I…understand. I won't come back unless you say I can, and I'll be sure not to bother you again…scout's honor. I didn't mean to cause you any trouble so…um…I'm sorry."

He backed away from her, carefully- she wasn't blessed with another touch of those cold fingers. She gave him a wavering, half hearted smile as she turned and fumbled with the doorknob- she didn't want him to see the disappointment on her face and the tears she knew were in her eyes. Because it didn't make sense, even to her. What had she been expecting? A passionate display of affection? A love confession? Tender parting words? What had she been expecting? Even if he knew, or suspected- she would receive nothing in return. Not a smile, smirk or anything of the like. She was stupid for having thought that just because it had turned out to be _him_…that it would mean anything.

She left.

He didn't stop her.

* * *

She hurled her pack into a corner, kicked her shoes off more ferociously than necessary- she all but ripped her cotton shirt from her shoulders, flying through the buttons and viciously pulling it down her arms. The zipper of her skirt stuck when she attempted to yank it down- in her haste she kicked the cotton thing from her legs. She walked steadily, with purpose, to her room- flicked the light on, barely glancing at the clothes tornado that was scattered around her room.

She closed her bedroom door with more force than the act required, and stood in front of the door length mirror in her black bra and matching underwear. She took in her red face, the disheveled hair- the proof of the struggle imprinted on her wrists. She let her hands race blindly over the reddened cheeks, down the graceful column of her neck- across the sculpted planes of her shoulders- tentatively feeling along the perfectly formed globes that made up her impressive bust- over the flat stomach too- she stopped- and felt her face scrunch up with something that could have been a strangled cry.

She sat down on the edge of her bed, and took a deep breath- just because she'd thought it was so- didn't mean that it was! After all, what did _she_ of all people know about these things! She might have played ignorant about a lot of things, but this one left her completely clueless- most of what she knew came from Animal Planet wild life specials and late night documentaries on human anatomy. In all her seventeen years of life, she had never had a boyfriend. She had almost kissed a boy _(once)_ but…it hadn't exactly gone through. And now, she was almost a little glad.

And then of course there were….the dreams. But they belonged entirely in a realm of their own. Just even the thought of comparing them to reality made her want to cover her face and crawl under the bed. In fact, that was she what she should be doing at this very moment. How was she still standing, let alone _sane?_

She'd miraculously survived her encounter with the green eyed monster- and like the naive idiot she was- she wondered if now, it would be stupid of her to be anticipating seeing him again. But why should she want to? He had a white freakishly clean windowless apartment on the top floor with a basement complete with _(what she was 99.99999% sure) _had to be a torture chamber, where he could _(true to his dragoness-ness) _barbecue his helpless victims over pit fires and devour virgins at his leisure.

She took a deep breath and buried her face into her palms- she tried to call that image back up- bald syringe wielding serial killer, out to pump her full of LSD so he could skin her with a cookie cutter and make bootleg purses out of her flesh to sell at the flee market- but what she got instead was _(-cold hands encircling her wrists and slowly venturing downward- burning a frigid trail down the heated expanse of her burning flesh- along the curve of her shoulder, delicately circling against the top of her-) _she sucked in a breath so deep it made her cheeks pucker, and slapped her legs together in a fierce motion that made her inner thighs sting. (_BALD SYRINGE WIELDING SERIAL KILLER RAPIST WHO MAKES COOKIES OUT OF VIRGIN BOOB FLESH. GREEN EYED SYRINGE WIELDING SERIAL RAPIST WHO LIKES EATING COOKIES OFF VIRGIN BR-)_

She screamed into her palms in frustration, fiercely slapping her cheeks to chase away the rapidly evolving image in her mind that had gone from bald serial killer to Ulquiorra before she had time to even know she was thinking thoughts she was absolutely _NOT_ supposed to be thinking about! What was wrong with her? She groaned in exasperation at her plight- she just _had _to be going insane. There was no other way…

…Because she had just _known_ then, immediately, without any Tatsuki, Rukia or the like- she'd found out all by herself, without a mother or father or brother. Her imagination had been her teacher- and in it some green eyed monster with frigid hands. She gulped, trying to psyche herself up for what needed to be done. She could always pretend this had never happened, she could pretend she'd never known anything and tomorrow be back to that cheerful, outlandish girl everyone knew and loved. No one else had to know- not even herself. Sure, she might need to stay addicted to Nyquil for a couple of months, but surely it was only a matter of time before-

_**["You find yourself in a compromising position, at the mercy of a being who is only discernible to you by name. And yet you find this amusing? Onna. I do not think you truly comprehend your current situation."]**_

She sighed, dropping her hands, dejectedly, back into her lap. Maybe she should have told him the truth then- it would have made her life easier. Or maybe she was lying to herself- she didn't get far into happily ever after with _him, _and that was even within the confines of her _own mind._ And even that was overly optimistic of her. As much as she wanted to tear at her hair, crawl in the fetal position or otherwise drown her sorrows in mint banana flavored ice cream in front of a six hour nickelodeon marathon- she had a sinking feeling those days were about to be over.

Tentatively, she parted her thighs, already feeling the harsh intake of breath released at even that simple notion. And even that was enough to make her flush- and it took everything within her to stay committed to this. She sucked in another breath, trying to psyche herself up- _(C'mon Orihime…say it with me- I'm a Big Kid Now-)_ She voiced the words, tried to smile at her own foolishness at the very wrongness of quoting a toddler commercial for diapers while doing something like this- but she didn't feel it.

The thin cotton of her lingerie felt heavy between her legs- she didn't have to do this in order to understand what he did to her- what he _could_ do to her. But she wanted to. Slowly, she raised her hand, drawing her fingertips up the flesh of her inner thigh with a barely contained shiver. She hesitated, the thought of what she was about to do so foreign, so not-Orihime that she wished someone else were doing this instead of her. But that thought, innocent enough as she meant it to be- took on a dangerous turn when she considered the someone else she had in mind.

She sucked in another deep breath, and hooked one of her fingers around the thin elastic waistband, and cautiously pulled. There was a bizarre, almost otherworldly feeling of something _leaving her_- and in a completely scary _'I-didn't-know-I-was-pregnant!' _kind of way. Either that, or when she felt her insides turned to mush maybe they had- literally. Liquefied right there in her belly like jello in the mircrowave.

Experimentally, she slid her hand between the cloth layer and her own flesh- the foreign feeling overwhelming her. She _really_ didn't want to do this. It was near five o' clock, and Sponge bob was on. Flapjack would come on shortly, and she could laugh at the strange adventures of a big nosed blue man and his questionably homo underaged playmate (and their giant whale mama).

But slowly, inch by inch her fingers descended- until her fingertip cautiously probed against one of the velvety folds that was _her_. The slight touch sent an electric pulse running through her legs that effectively melted them once more- she slammed her lips together to hold in the whimper- from a pleasure so foreign and unknown to her it could have been pain. It was a more pronounced version of that other subtle feeling- the one he had incited in her.

She froze when she felt something hot and slick coat her fingertips, and she hastily pulled her hand back, held it up in front of her face- and her fingers were coated with it, the proof of her pleasure. Whether she had wanted it or not, it had happened.

…and the man who caused it hadn't even really _touched_ her yet.

She felt backwards onto her bed, burrowing her face into the silken strands of her hair. What was she supposed to do? There was no one to tell, no one to confide in- but honestly- why this? Honestly- _Why him?_ It could have been anyone else, Ichigo, Uryuu, Chad- of all the wonderful men that were present in her life, why did her body crave the one she wasn't allowed to have?

* * *

She'd instinctively known the day following this incident of her life was going to _suck._

It was probably going to be even worse than the day she'd gotten stuck in the super market line behind an old lady counting out ninety-nine pennies, then got line jumped by a man so frightening she dared not remind him she was there, then had needed a nickel and had to bum one from a kid in the parking lot who made her dance for it, dropped it in the gutter, had to fish it out with gum and a strand of her hair, managed to get it, and had gone in the store just in time to get mixed up in a robbery in process by a man with an ax and a stocking pulled over his head. _Then _he'd held the store hostage, and she was stuck tied up beside a grandpa who smelled like wet dog while the police negotiated with the robber- then they maced the place, saved the day, and sent everyone home…and then she had to testify in court the next day against the robber, who just happened to be the driver of the taxi she had taken over to the super market in the first place.

"_Holy __**Shit**_ Orihime! You look like someone mugged you in a back alley on the way to school, took your lunch money, pushed you in a puddle, gave you a noogie, and then proceeded to river dance over your lifeless body. So whose ass do I need to kick?"

-Ah, the sound of cracking knuckles in the morning.

She laughed eerily, wondering when Tatsuki had made her way over to her desk- or when _she'd g_otten their herself. Funny, she didn't remember waking up this morning, much less walking to school. Hmm…had she even showered? Or was she sitting here naked? No, no cause them they wouldn't have let her in school…unless it was 'pretend to be a naked lad' day and she was really blending right in.

"-Must've been those closest leprechauns that live under my bed again. If I leave them my homemade carrot banana oatmeal pies they'll wash my underwear."

(Of course, she thought she had said that anyway, but due to a long sleepless night spent staring blindly with bloodshot eyes at an all night movie marathon to keep her mind off of the underwear currently burning in her sink, and the fire alarm going off over her head, what really came out of her mouth was "Mmpfh bo clommen libre 'ive wedgin. Ifi leaf homma 'arrot 'nana mepie watch wear.")

Tatsuki's familiar face drifted closer to her own, a dark eyebrow raised as she stared at the incoherent blob that was Orihime. She took in the wild hair, the absent look in her eyes, the bags beneath them, the awkwardly placed hairpins, the collared shirt buttoned up wrong, the skirt on backwards, the mismatched socks. And then there was the nonsensical nonsense to consider of course.

"Uhhh Orihime? Maybe you should go wash your face really quick…it might help you function better. I'll cover for you this time, but the next time you stay up for eight hours straight watching all night movie marathons on TV instead of going to sleep, I'm coming to your apartment and hurling that shit out the nearest window. Got me?"

She looked up- and saw Big Bird standing in front of her, spouting something about 'watch faise', as he readied his light saber for battle against flying radioactive star fish on the way to take over the school and enslave the entire highschool population. She had to get to her battle station, make sure all the preparations were complete for interstellar time travel, reload the plasma guns and-

"_**ORIHIME INOUE GET YOUR ASS TO THE BATHROOM NOW OR SO HELP ME I'M GOING TO CARRY YOU THERE MYSELF!"**_

Ohhh yeah. Tatsuki. Shaking her back to life. (she'd fallen into a coma sitting up, head lolling on her shoulders and drool seeping from between her closed lips.)

"Aye Aye Captain!"

She shot up, the chair clattering to the floor behind her as she spun dizzily out of the room, leaving a frowning Tatsuki in her wake, sighing and shaking her head.

* * *

She washed her face, combed her hair, straightened her skirt, re-buttoned up her shirt, fixed the placement of her hairpins, smiled and made faces in the mirror, was ready for action, and then hopped out of the bathroom feeling like a million-fa-fillion dollars.

She strolled lazily down the university corridors- they were quiet and vacant without the mad rush of students that usually occupied them- it was kind of comforting, knowing she was the only one out here. The walls were covered in posters and flyers for this that and the other, as well as the occasional rainbow colored smudge where graffiti had been sprayed there and vigorously scrubbed away by the janitors.

She looked both ways, then grinned cheerfully to herself at the wonderful opportunity- it wasn't every day she got a chance like this. She spread her arms wide, set her feet, and closed her eyes. What would she be? Maybe an airplane fighter pilot? Or perhaps an astronaut blasting through space in a space shuttle? Dodging meteors, up, up and away to unknown worlds! Left, left! The alarm bell was ringing, flashing a glaring red in her vision- her leprechaun sized comrades looked to her for assistance, hastily beating multicolored keys in unison- _'They'd been hit! The ship synchronization had dropped 50%, they were going to have to crash land on a nearby planet-' 'No Dammit!' She stood up, her eyes narrowed with years of wisdom, the scars of battle etched into the lines of her face. She strode to the front of the ship, grey eyes eerily calm. She wouldn't let it end like this. They thought she could be taken down this easily? Those damn aliens wouldn't know what hit them. To the battle stations! She'd be damned if she was going to go down without a fight! Tatsuki nodded her approval, grinning impishly as she loaded up their last round. She swallowed, raising her hand to give the command- perhaps the last she would ever give. 'On my mark- ready…set…"_

"Fire! Pewpewpew! Down goes the alien battleship in a plume of smoke, lost in the vacuum of space, as it _**EXPLODES!**_ Boom! Pow! Captain Orihime and her loyal crew are victorious!"

She pumped her fist in the air, grinning and pivoting on her heel to take a mock bow to her imaginary crew. See? She still had it! She grinned wider, thumbing her nose sheepishly as she strode down the hall. She let loose a breath she didn't know she had been holding. It was fine, everything was fine- she could still do things like that. She could still be crazy, and fun, she could still imagine otherworldly adventures like she used to, she could still loose herself in her imaginary world- she could still do it. Nothing had changed, she was still the same Orihime…right?

She shook her head wildly from side to side, ducking around a corner as she hastily slapped her cheeks with both hands. Of course she was still the same! Did she have peanut flavored french fries with soy sauce in her lunch box? Of course nothing had changed! Just because she…had…an _'experience'_…didn't mean she had changed for good! In fact, she was better than ever! Yep, yes siree she was fine_- perfectly fine._

She leaned against the wall, admiring her shadow against the floor tiles. She struck a pose, watching as it mimicked her- made the V for Victory sign, and smiled- but of course if it smiled back she wouldn't have known. She _(knew she was lying) _and because she _did _know at least that much, her smile dropped. Now it was only a matter of time before-

She froze, her eyes widening as another shadow formed behind hers. She spun around so fast she tripped over her own feet and fell flat on her back, her heart pounding in her ears- she didn't look up she didn't-

"What the _**hell?**_ You on some bad shit or what? I hadn't even touched you yet!"

She blinked in surprise, and looked up at the imposing figure towering over her- she took in at a glance the wrinkled and baggy slacks, the half unbuttoned shirt with the rolled up sleeves, the powerful build, the blue hair, unkempt and wild. There was always an odd expression of contempt laced in the lines of his grin- that was more smirk than smile. His eyes were narrowed, assessing- he took her in at a glance, and the pronounced smirk on his face made her realize than when she'd fallen her legs had spread of their own accord. She hurried to close them.

"Well what do ya know…if it isn't the darling _**princess." **_The way his words rolled over the words made a funny shiver roll down her spine. It suddenly came to her attention that this was the first time she had ever found herself talking to him since- well- she hadn't said anything back yet.

She stood up hastily, hurrying to her feet as she knocked the dust off her skirt- it was fine _(she tried to tell herself)_ she could do this. Noted differences aside, it wasn't that hard- he couldn't be that bad, he was fine, she preferred him any day to- well…._him. _She smiled, sheepishly rubbing the back of her head her instant defense mechanisms kicking in- rambling to hide her nervousness.

"I'm sorry! I wasn't paying attention, and for a second there I thought for sure you were the boogeyman, or at least the President Mr. Miyagi and he isn't very nice about students being out of class you know, so you should probably head there yourself, we may be college freshmen now, but detention's still no fun at all, especially on today- it's Wednesday , and every Wednesday they give out free ice cream after class at the parlor downtown- it's really the best- especially the pistachio one with almonds and sprinkles- and you wouldn't want to be stuck in the dorms doing extra work knowing that all your friends were busy licking melted ice cream off their fingers would you?"

She sucked in a breath, prepared to continue her mini rant when she nearly jumped out of her shoes through the roof at a harsh sound that struck oddly in the empty hall- it was a funny mix of a dog barking and a cat growling (_ was that even a sound?) and _it took her a moment to realize that it was Grimmjow- _laughing._

She managed to pick her jaw up in time as his eyes made their way back to her face, the grin on it more impish and mischievous now than that scary smirk he seemed to always wear. She didn't know which one to be more wary of- his 'slasher' smile or the fact that she had made him _laugh _which had been deemed nigh impossible- so she was going to make it her business to call Guinness as soon as she got herself straight.

She blinked as Grimmjow leaned towards her, calming herself and resisting the urge to hop back a couple of steps- just in case making him laugh happened to be his berserk button.

"You're fucking crazy you know that? You're lucky you're not a man or I'd have punched your face in, lecturing me like that. Either you're really naïve or just plain _stupid."_

She didn't miss a beat, matching his funny smirky grin with one of her own. She was surprised at how nonchalant she was, being this close to the university's resident 'socio-psychopath'- but after getting over his odd facial expressions, she could honestly say at the heart of her she wasn't afraid of him. He reminded her a little of her nearest neighbor, a reformed gangster- it just took a lot to get his mind off bloody knuckles and bullet wounds and onto more pleasant things- and to remind him that he didn't have to live that life anymore. Her smile to him was honest and pure.

"No you wouldn't have! Everyone else makes you out to be this really scary, out of control monster, but you seem okay to me!"

He scoffed, taking a step back from her- and she wondered if she imagined him rolling his eyes at her.

"No shit huh? Guess they don't call you the fucking princess for nothing. Well in that case you had better run on to class little girl, I've got business to handle."

He strode past her, his hands shoved into his pockets and his shoulders hunched in a way that was so eerily familiar it made a funny tingle run down her spine. She turned and watched him stride away- his walk wasn't exactly as graceful or as fluent- but it seemed- almost angry, with an anxious, barely contained power to it. As if he would literally strike out in one moment, without warning, and rip the nearest thing to shreds. She imagined that if he ran on all fours, he would stalk like a panther- or a wild cat. Maybe a lion. She could imagine him with a shaggy blue mane.

She smiled to herself- honestly, what had been the problem with him? He seemed a little mad half the time, but he seemed fine to her. She called after him, feeling bold suddenly, and waved after him-

"I'll see you later Grimmjow! You should still get to class! Remember, ice cream Wednesdays!"

He turned and shot her a glance over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised at the ferocity of her waving arm as she motioned good bye. He scoffed again, as if he couldn't believe her stupidity. She didn't blame him, she couldn't get herself sometimes either.

"Yeah, yeah whatever! Next time I see you, bring that Ichibitch with you. Tell him I'm still waiting on that ass whooping he promised me. He had better grow a pair soon, or else. I'm tired of waiting as it is."

He walked off grumbling the rest of his words under his breath, although she was sure he had said his fair share of profanities. She watched him turn the corner, shaking her head. It was no secret that Grimmjow and Ichigo couldn't stand each other, and each had said their fair share of insults. In fact, the only thing that had stopped them thus far from literally turning the school inside out in an all out battle royale to kill each other had been a merciful difference in schedules. Luckily for everyone else, they were almost always at opposite ends of the school at any given time.

She sighed at a bullet successfully dodged, wiping an invisible stream of sweat from her brow. Lucky! If he'd been half as bad as people made him out to be, she'd have had her face through a wall by now and been halfway to heaven. But she was glad she'd gotten to talk to him- a little rough around the edges, but he seemed like an ok guy- a little bit on the wild side, and yeah admittedly scary (_kind of)_ but if nothing else, if she ever found herself in a strange part of time about to get manhandled in a bar fight, she would know who to call.

Either him or-

And impossibly, she blinked back to reality just in time to see that tall form, a blur of black and white, stride past the hall she was on after Grimmjow. She thought for sure, in that moment, that the world spun around her, a vacuum that stripped her of breath. He was gone before she even found the time to blink. And when she did blink, only empty hall greeted her.

She gripped hastily at the fabric of her shirt, feeling the cotton tightly grasped in her fingers, the heat of her body beneath, the pulse of her heart beneath her hand. She realized that the world had not spun- but her body had swayed, she had fallen heavily against the wall- if it had not been there she would have hit the floor.

She should run.

Run right back to class. She'd been gone too long.

Run back to class and apologize to her crazy English professor, muttering something about having her shoe swept away by a deranged janitor who would only give it back to her if she beat him in a rap battle. He'd motion for her to sit down. She'd plop down beside Tatsuki with a grin, one that would be met with a knowing look, as if this was all part of the daily routine. She'd get a poke from behind her, turn to Rukia, who'd wonder what took her so long- then she'd have to tell it again, more animatedly then the first time- then a paper airplane would fly across the room and land in her hair- it was Uryuu from three rows over- she would raise her head and meet his worried gaze behind his glasses. Via sign/body language and wacky facial expressions she'd tell him too. And then Ichigo from the back of the class would whisper loudly to know what had happened to her, and she'd have to lean sideways out of her desk into the aisle, and just as loudly whisper back- and then the professor would ask her if there was something she'd liked to share. No sir! But she'd yell too loud or he would think she was being funny, he'd ask her to leave- and then in unison, five people would stand, four yelling in protest (Chad would merely stand silently like the behemoth he was at the back of the class) until the poor guy would get so frazzled he'd try to send them all out- and that's when the insults, knuckle cracking, and desk flipping would start- and ultimately, they would all be stuck in detention doing extra work for ice cream Wednesday.

The third ice cream Wednesday in a row, as a matter of fact. The inner monologue left her feeling more like herself- if she even knew what that was- not like that swooned, wobbly legged girl she'd been for a moment. She knew that's what she should be doing right now- skipping back to class, thinking idly of what random concoction she could make for dinner, of talking sponges and flying whales.

Not green eyed dragons making off with ginger haired, gray eyed princesses.

Her feet were running after him before she could stop them.

* * *

She leaned up against the wall, hands pressed against the wood- she wished she could wipe the trickle of sweat that was running down the side of her face, but she feared the sudden movement- any at all- would betray her. She gulped and swallowed- she thought for sure they could hear it, as well as the pounding of her heart. She was acutely aware of the fact that by now, Tatsuki could very well have organized a search party to find her.

But they wouldn't check back here- why would they? This was forbidden territory, a damned domain. '_Come back here if you dare! We assure you that you won't make it out of here alive!' _That kind of place. Where all the bad kids went. In the past, it had inhabited the chain smoking junkies who met between classes for a fix, gangs of unruly thugs who mercilessly pummeled innocent bystanders for lunch money, and even the occasional loner secretly plotting world domination.

But she doubted than in all its years of existence (as another shady abandoned structure behind a University gym) had it housed a group quite like this. She sucked in a breath- her body was crouched awkwardly behind the building, beneath its only window, set high up into the wall. It was half opened, to maybe let a breeze in, since the summer heat could be quite stifling.

Cautiously, she shimmied her way upwards- nearly saying a bad word under her breath when she found she was no wear near tall enough. She anxiously moved her glance from side to side- there was a bevy of cardboard boxes, and other likewise discarded items, and as silently as she could she stacked a few of them up, and managed to climb up on top of them- they wobbled, but she was sure she could keep her balance long enough. She could reach the window now- and for a moment she was afraid of what she would find.

One of Nnoitra's fantastical orgies? Grimmjow beating the snot out of some kid? Harribel finally lowering her collar to reveal a face so horribly disfigured that it would scar her for life? Or something even worse? She doubted she could find anything worse on school property- but with him in the room there was honestly no telling.

She held her breath, and slowly rose her head up to the window sill, allowing her to look down on the scene inside.

The abandoned shed looked just like the inside of an abandoned shed should look- filled with a random assortment of wooden crates, broken chairs, old gym equipment and other random items. It seems like whatever they had been talking about, had really gotten them all riled up- Grimmjow stood in the center of the room, his fists clenched and his face murderously angry.

Nnoitra (with that filthy smile off his face for once) was sitting on a stool, his arms draped casually over his knees, his tongue probing the inside of his cheek. He dressed, looked, and acted like he had a couple of girls 'working' for him on some god forsaken corner. It wasn't hard to believe the rumors about him. Harribel was leaning against one of the walls, her head lowered slightly, her arms crossed over her chest- she seemed to not be paying anyone much attention, but her perceptive blue eyes followed the slightest movement everyone made. And stretched out on the floor, was the massive form of Yammy, with a face that was hardly considered attractive, and with a slightly idiotic disposition to match. He was lying on his side, with his head resting in a meaty hand.

And the cold shudder that racked through her body told her that he was there too.

Although Grimmjow seemed to be the only one openly angry, she could feel a strange tension had descended on everyone inside. She tried to get her pulse to stop racing so madly, and pressed closer against the thin glass to hear what was going on.

"-bullshit! I'm tired of fucking playing around like this already! For fuck's sake let's go head and waste 'em! We know they're here, and they know we're here, so let's cut the crap and bring it to those bitches!"

"Shut up Grimmjow. You know as well as we do the foolishness of such an act. As fun as it would be too finally have one at my disposal, I dare say even _I _am not that eager to die. Besides- why can't you just calm down and enjoy the free buffet hmm? As long as they continue to hide, I see no reason for us to come out of hiding."

Her eyes roved around the room to find the owner of the new voice, but he must've been against the wall she was leaning against, and she couldn't see him. Grimmjow proved her right by scowling at whoever it was leaning against her wall-

"You _would _say that Syazel. Because that's what bitches do. They bitch out when it comes to shit like this."

Syazel didn't take that too well, and stepped away from the wall for her to barely make out the top of his pink haired head.

"Now see here you barbarian! If we weren't _forced_ to be comrades I'd-"

Grimmjow strode up to him and without a moment's hesitation was in his face, his form towering over Syazel's.

"You'd what? Tell it to me loud and clear you pink haired faggot! Finish that statement so I can knock your fucking teeth in!"

There was another barely concealed shuffle, as a tall, full figured girl stood up, the dark, curling mass of her hair and the childish edge to her voice allowing Orihime to instantly recognize her as Nel- the most relatable and friendly of the entire group of them- and although she was talkative enough, she had a speech impediment that made her sound younger than she was. She ran forward hastily, hurrying between the two men, before they could resort to blows.

"Der's no 'eed for dat! We're famwy! Famwy 'ont fite!"

Grimmjow glared into the eyes of Syazel so fiercely she felt a shiver run down the back of her neck and gulped loudly for him. She closed her eyes and squinted through her eyelids, the look of hatred on Grimmjows face twisting it into some unrecognizable mask she could have only imagined in a nightmare. She just knew it was coming- he would draw his fist back and swing- poor Syazel would go flying through the air like a rag doll- a shower of blood-

-he turned his head and spit on the ground so viciously it made her _wince._

"Family huh? Bullshit. You're just lucky this mother fucker isn't worth it. I'll save my fists for someone who'll fight back."

He scoffed and scowled even harder than before, roughly shoving his hands into his pockets. She wondered if she was the only one who sighed with relief. After this brief display of drama had been peacefully resolved, the room sunk once more into heavy silence. Orihime shuffled for a better position- only a few minutes and already her shoulders and neck were beginning to ache. She wondered what they had been arguing about- what could have been so important that they had all abandoned class to discuss it? Well sure, they were questionable students with questionable background stories and behavior- but as far as she knew, despite the rumors they were all decent students.

Grimmjow had mentioned it- something about –to use his words exactly- "bringing it to some bitches"- but then again, it was _Grimmjow_, and it didn't seem weird to her that he was ranting about his desires to beat some people up. That seemed just like him, so she didn't worry about it for long. Whatever the issue really was, she'd learned one thing- don't bring it up around him again, that was for sure.

Nnoitra shifted, leaning forward to rest his long arms over his knees. His tongue slithered out of his mouth for a moment- and she must have looked too hard, because she could've sworn there was something tattooed on the slimy appendage.

"Look- if this is all we had to say, I would have stayed with those chicks-" Syazel ran a hand through his (pink) hair, frowning over at Nnoitra with distaste.

"_Must _you be so conspicuous? The rest of us are _trying_ awfully hard to be good little boys and girls about this."

Nnoitra shrugged, rolling his shoulders in a way that made her stomach squirm uncomfortably.

"Hell I _do _need to feed too ya know?"

Huh. He'd said _feed_ as if he had just gotten back from some wild safari in which he had hunted down animals and then proceeded to skin and eat them alive. The image of Nnoitra doing so startled her so much she almost lost her balance atop the crates. She stumbled for a moment, biting her tongue as she hastily grabbed a fiercer grip against the window pane. She managed to look back up and refocus herself right before she tumbled to her death- and she wondered if she had imagined the pair of shifty eyes that for the moment seemed to have rested on her. Syazel's voice brought her back to the matter at hand.

"Well there's nothing else to be done for the moment I'd say. We've gotten nothing accomplished here besides wasted time. I do have a shift to work you know- can't 'pal around' with the 'crazy college kids' all day."

He laughed at his own joke, chuckling under his breath in a creepy way that only emphasized how silent everyone else was- she even caught Nel rolling her eyes and making a face in a way that made her giggle under her breath. Nnoitra rose, sighing with relief as his long joints clicked into place.

"Well there is only one more thing- who gets dibs?" –and the smile that spread across his face was so sickening she felt her skin scrawl. It was nothing short of a 'rape face' made of High Octane Nightmare fuel. She knew she wouldn't sleep well tonight because of it.

Grimmjow raised his head and took a breath- he blinked with something that could have been surprise. Then he scowled deeper than before. He was going to give himself wrinkles if he kept doing that- "Aw _fuck. _Son of a bitch!"

Syazel scoffed again, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "No need for all that profanity this early in the day Grimmjow. These things do need to be appropriately handled. And calm down Nnoitra- you already had yours for the day."

Nnoitra glared in that squinty eyed way of his and shrugged in that sickening way again. "Damn right. They're both pretty fucking hot too. I'll let you guys decide then."- without another word he slouched out of the room, and it was all she could do not to watch- he had a funny way of walking that could make good, morally driven girls pick up on his perversion from a mile away. But despite that despicable walk, that rape face, that slimy smile- he could still get sane women to literally fall at his feet! She still hadn't figured out _why_ though! And as soon as she looked down, she saw Nel's face crumple- the girl bit her lip, and before she could blink had ran after that slouching form.

Orihime remembered just in time- they were supposedly dating- but from the looks of things it was anything but. She felt a stab of pity in her for the poor girl- chasing after someone whose attention was obviously elsewhere- she _knew_ what that feeling was like.

"Well I have work to attend to- I'll just let the vultures have it out amongst themselves hmm?"

He smiled, somehow managing to do a perfect hair flip as he left. She smiled, really envying his talent for it. As soon as he had left, her eyes strode around the room, keeping note of who was left to 'claim dibs' as Nnoitra put it.

Yammy rolled his massive body, sitting upwards with what looked to her to have been a momentous effort in itself, to carry his girth. Grimmjow still stood, glaring angrily into space- she noticed then that Harribel had slipped- unnoticed- out of the room.

As her eyes searched the room, she jumped and darted back to Grimmjow as he gave an intelligible curse, and kicked her wall so hard it shook and made her momentarily lose her footing. Her teeth rattled, and she was momentarily dazed- she struggled to retain her footing, and nearly screamed when the crates toppled out from under her- she bit her tongue in her haste to keep quiet, latching onto the window sill with a death grip as she once again felt that weightless feeling that came with her suddenly finding herself hanging precariously in mid air. She huffed in a breath, using every single inch of her upper body strength to hold on. She had sent girls twice her size hurling up into the air, and caught them according to whatever cheerleader move they'd been practicing- but holding up her own body weight was an entirely different story- her upper arms tingled with the effort- she dared not turn her head and look down.

It wasn't a never ending drop that would lead to her doom- but one that would leave her with a lot of explaining to do, should she fall with the audience still inside- and she couldn't bear having to explain anything to _him_ again.

She struggled to hang on, her cheeks puffed out, silently heaving with the effort- she couldn't stand much more of this- but she had to last, had to last until-

-she managed to barely peek over the edge again- Grimmjow had stormed out-

-she fell back down a few centimeters-

-she huffed and pulled back up-

-"…Hey Ulquiorra? Shall I-"-fall; Yammy's rugged voice saying that name did it- rise-"-trash too?"

She wanted to hear his response- she needed to hear it. What? What had he asked to do? What about this dibs? Trash? What was?

"No Yammy. I shall handle this matter myself."

Handle what? She fell back- heaved, hoisted herself back up with her last strain of effort. Yammy's massive form had vanished from the room. He stood in the middle, eyes lifted and staring straight at her. Her breath caught in her throat- and her grip slackened- she forgot she was suspended in the air.

Those emerald eyes staring straight at her.

"Onna-"

She let go.

* * *

AN:/_**Disclaimer: I no own Bleach. Ever.**_

_Yeah I know, the chapter was a little long. Shoot me. I still haven't exactly figured out how long this is going to be yet, and now I won't get any complaints about short chapters at least. I felt like I was forgetting who Orihime was 'or the girl she's supposed to be' anyway so I tried to remember she was pretty random as hell during the good times. I may have over done it though...hell, I tried! It's hard to fine the line between keeping her Orihime, or making her into this ditsy airhead. The random space fighter moment actually occured b/c I was asked by a reviewer what Orihime was studying in college. Cue WTF moment. Ugh...um...-cue ass pull- she wants to direct...um...child approved action dramas. -face palm-_

_And awkward sexual tension is awkward. I really messed Orihime up didn't I? And I don't think she's going to get better any time soon.  
_

_Anyway, the chapter actually came out pretty quickly b/c while I was writing the next chapter for BAI I found the MOTHER OF ALL FUCKING PLOT HOLES. The kind that made me sit back and say 'Shitdamnfuck' in that order, and made me punch a hole in the wall. See also: 'WHY THE HELL DIDN'T I THINK OF THAT SOONER' and 'HOW THE FUCK COULD I LET THAT HAPPEN.' That said, I had to 180 the plot I was going to do because I fucked up the smallest thing and refuse to rewrite the last couple of chapters to fix it. Aw hell._

_Yeah anyway, love you guys long time for the reviews and alerts! :,)  
_


	3. A Little Bit Of What You Fancy

**[A**_l__**iC**_e** I**n_C__h_**a**i_n**s]**_

_**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**_

_**[A Little Bit Of What You Fancy]  
**_

* * *

_She could recall, often in startling detail, often in a blurred mix of images and sound- from the way the sun had set, the way the funny little blue caps (they were shaped like cheezits to her) had been thrown- up, up and away! She had never found hers no matter how hard she had searched the battlefield after the stampede- the crowd, the rush, the hugs, the kisses, the promises, from the 'Don't forget me!' to the 'Be sure to call!' and the 'Take care of yourself!' and the ever unforgettable- 'I hope you never change!'_

_The pats on the back, the kind that made your chest ache and your breath go 'whoosh' like a ballon half blown and suddenly let loose- the sheepish grins, the smiles, the smiles- until her jaw had ached. Throwing off the heavy robe- the boisterous roar of the crowd of suddenly free teenagers- on that amazingly new threshold of power somewhere between 'almost there' and full fledged adults. That night- if she could have likened the feeling to anything it was this- she felt like a god. That night, she was invincible. They didn't want her to change, but change she would- because they didn't know, never had- how much being the same hurt her, staying the same, like stagnant water in a puddle, watching them blossom and grow._

_Why couldn't she? Why couldn't she?_

_The crew in its entirety- the princess, the prince, the lady night, the wizard, the castle guard- decked out in full display- what now? The possibilities! Endless! She could've flown to the moon that night, flew over that crescent moon that night, jumped over it like the cow, run away with the spoon! What to do? Such freedom! It was a night, it was an air that would never come again, never happen again. They'd all gotten accepted into the same university- college freshmen whoo! They were unstoppable! They ruled the city that night-_

_And then-_

_In the dark, the two unsuspecting groups accidentally collided- and she remembered that blue hair, that fierce mocking grin- the hard push that sent her sprawling to the ground, and then- Ichigo was up in arms- apologize! What? It had been her fault- she didn't look- she hadn't been paying attention-_

_And then came the curses- she remembered that oil slick smile and those narrow eyes- unabashedly burning a trail up the length of her legs- a snicker, a lust filled retort- and then came the threats- the crack of knuckles-out of nowhere the mammoth emerged, spitting idiotic promises to back up his comrades- the heated insult the final straw. The battle was on._

_She remembered, all too vividly- the sound of flesh compounding on threats- fists thrown, kicks, curses- it was nothing short of an all out brawl- she remembered Tatsuki, dragging her to her feet, pushing her away- stumble stumble- it was getting uglier by the second she had to leave-_

_-leave?_

_-And she fell heavily against the alley wall, eyes squeezed shut, hands clamped over her ears to block out the sound of war-_

_-Because she didn't know how to fight, she didn't know how to curse or glare, to make threats and make good on them- because she was pretty and popular and kind hearted, because she was eye candy and needed to go while the big kids were talking, because-_

_"**I have never seen such a lamentable sight."**_

_-and the words cut her like a knife, to the heart of her- cut her in a place already covered with self inflicted wounds. She jumped, dropped the limps hands to her sides, raised the ever widening eyes, parted the quivering lips._

_-And what a lamentable sight she must've been- her mascara running, bruised knees visible from under her skirt, angry and splotching from her contact with the pavement- skinned palms- her carefully done hair that she had slaved over, to feel that for once in her life she had control over something- had fallen into a sloppy mess. She'd dirtied her favorite shirt when she'd fallen, and torn the edge of her skirt- and she was sniveling and crying because she didn't know what to do- they were fighting to the death over something so trivial, and she didn't know what to do- and she looked up at him, imploring him, beseeching him earnestly- the tall green eyed stranger- for guidance for-_

_She could barely find the words, could barely manage to utter the pathetic words._

_"P-P-Please I-"_

_And he stared at her with such contempt- such contempt in those green eyes! Such contempt, such bridled disgust- that it burned her with something far too humiliating to be shame and the words vanished. She swallowed- it lodged in her throat- as those carefully contained strides brought him closer to her. And the light from the dim streetlamp bathed him in a mix of watery light and shadow, and those green eyes seemed lit from within- and she felt the shiver, felt the prominent aura of something wafting from him- something that made everything within her tremble- the very effort to hold her eyes to his was suddenly momentous._

_And those black lips parted again and-_

_"**There is no point in investing even the slightest effort to help such trash."**_

_And he walked by and left her there, her hand still outstretched in the empty air. Like kittens on a doorstep, trash on a curb. Left her there. Like babies in a basket at the church. He had seen her distress, seen her despair- and left her to wallow in it._

_The cruelty- the cold, calculated cruelty of the act stunned her. Never- never!- had anyone-_

_And she listened to those footsteps fade away from her. Listened to the cold echo of them reverberating into the distance-_

_And she fell to her knees- she could remember the bitter cold of the pavement beneath her- the gravel biting against the torn flesh of her palms and knees. And she recalled a peculiar feeling boiling inside of her- a feeling so foreign, a feeling she had never felt before in a single moment since she had been born._

_And if she had ever wished ill of a single human being in the entirety of her life, it was then._

_And then she was able to name the feeling._

_Hate._

* * *

She was scared to open her eyes.

She kept them closed tight, as fiercely as she could- so that she could almost feel her face scrunching with the momentous effort it took to keep her eyelids screwed together. She was lying down- and whatever her hands were resting on, she had clenched with such a tight death grip that she was positive her knuckles were white from the effort.

She was sure of one or two things.

Either all of that had been one mixed up dream from her lack-of-sleep-and-banana-mint-oreos-for-breakfast-induced nightmare- or (the extreme-say-your-prayers-close-your-eyes-and-hope-its-over-soon) kind of reality that led to her awakening to a room full of a strange assortment of characters, blue haired to green eyed, who would then proceed to beat the living snot out of her until she couldn't so much as sneeze without begging for mercy, much less tell anyone much of anything. Or even a third one- she'd seen a movie last night where I guy had woken up in bed and found a horse head under his covers. Although she was certain that for her it would be infinitely more horrifying, like the headless body of her favorite night time snuggle bear from childhood.

The room was eerily silent- the calm before the storm. _See?_ This was why teenagers should write wills for real after seeing a particularly horrible tear jerker lifetime movie tragedy that made her realize that upon her untimely death by cancer or what have you, at least her private stuffed animal collections would be taken care of. Now- there was no time to handle it all! She was screwed. All of her most favorite things-would probably be ripped straight from her room and into an open blaze in a ditch-

-and she knew she was letting her mind wander to avoid reality, because daydreaming was the easiest thing to do-

-and she knew he was in the room, instinctively knew by the way she could feel her blood stir to life- and the heat was on her face. And she thought about folding her hands over her chest and pursing her lips like Sleeping Beauty, waiting to be restored to life by the kiss of her one true love, and then he would whisk her away into far, far away land and they would live happily ever after.

But of course she was only kidding herself.

She would feel those fangs pressing persistently against her lips- and her eyes would flutter open- because stupid, she had intentionally told Prince Charming the wrong castle and The Dragon had come- well technically he hadn't because he lived here, this was his almighty castle of doom, and stupid princess that she was, she had screwed the prince, lifted her skirts and run straight into the evil lair. She had fought through the thorns, fought her way blindly through the swamp, choked on the noxious fumes, the smell of sulfur and brimstone- dodged the hell fire- but _surprise!_ Here she was- a tattered mess on the other side.

And there was the beast, beautiful and deadly and furious- because here was a mortal, a foolish mortal- and what else could bring her here? She had surely come to vanquish him! But here she was- sword less, armor less, defenseless and weak- coming forward with her arms open and her smile wide- and maybe he would even eat her. Gobble her up, swallow her whole, eat her alive.

And even that was fine. As long as it was him- she didn't mind being eaten.

She wondered what he thought of her now. Wondered if he even thought of her at all. Wondered if even once before, after, her name had crossed his lips. She wondered, wondered, wondered. She wondered if this was how it was supposed to be- this wasn't exactly a movie perfect magical "first" love. Heck if she was being honest, this probably wasn't even a great one. She didn't know who was stranger- him or her- probably her, since she was the one being the semi-psycho stalker, breaking into his house and everything. Especially since he had never even given her a sign, never even given her so much as a passing glance…

But if she thought like that, it made her uncharacteristically depressed- well, thinking about him, about her, them, _always _made her uncharacteristically depressed. Or maybe she had always been this way, secretly at the heart of her, and just didn't realize it until she met him. It was like when she lost the first tooth- _jiggle jiggle_ with her tongue until it popped clean out- the surprise, feeling the open wound- the barely contained shudder that she got whenever she found herself prying the suddenly open crevice. It was an unpleasant, awful feeling- prying that single spot- but like she was somehow magnetically drawn to it, she _kept doing it. _Even though she hated that shudder, that _'well shoot that's just weird' _feeling she always got after.

In some weird, strange, nonsensical way that she couldn't exactly put together yet, that was exactly what was going on here. The way her friends had previously made her feel had been the tooth- maybe? Like a foundation kind of? Well yeah that could work-…and then- _wait_. It would be kind of weird for him to be the tongue in this equation (and it could probably be considered a particularly nasty and uncomfortable one to a lot of people) but maybe that's what he had been without being anything- prying and prying and eventually unearthing everything she'd known to reveal that empty hole (and there was so many ways this thought train could go horribly wrong) but even then, still prying, prying-

She rolled over, feeling an uncomfortable heat in the pit of her belly. Thinking of _holes _and _tongues_ and _him _all together in one thinking span was not only hazardous to her health, but her sanity. But the room was dead silent and she idly wondered-

"…and yet you still feign sleep?"

Well that answered her question.

He knew she was up. He had probably _known_ she was up before _she _had even _known_ she was up. She considered laying there quietly, drawing slow steady breaths, closing her eyes, murmuring under her breath- he would probably leave if she mumbled his name. Or in the worst case scenario, he wouldn't. Stride over and grab her-

-with more effort than she thought the act would require, she stopped her mind from going off on that dangerous and health endangering tangent.

Before she could hesitate or doubt or wonder what the heck she was supposed to do now- she sat up so quickly it made her head spin, feeling her hair whip around her shoulders from the sudden action.

She thought that maybe by the time her anxious eyes had landed on him, standing against the wall in front of her with his hands shoved into his pocket, she would have been able to come up with something witty to say. But her eyes landed on him and they all dried up in her brain- if there had even been any in the first place.

She had been placed in one of the back rooms of the infirmary, a small room with a bed, a counter and cabinet loaded with medical supplies, her, him, and nothing in between. She wondered if her hands were really shaking or if she was only imagining the slight quiver. She wished she had a brown paper bag. Place it to her lips- in and out, in and out- until pop goes the weasel.

Those emerald eyes nearly bore holes into her flesh- if it could burn anymore than this. She tried to keep her breathing normal- but it was getting shallow, tried to not to look so anxious, even though her pulse was pounding away and made her head ache. She tried to keep her eyes on his- but not on his- kind of like reverse looking into the eyes of a wild dog- instead of being the threat if you looked into them, she felt like she would be trash if she looked away. It must have been enough for him. He didn't waste any more time interrogating her.

But she didn't expect the bomb he dropped on her next. Like a good swing, a well aimed shot, a knife thrown with perfect precision, a rock hurled with deadly accuracy-

"Enough of this Onna. Your unhealthy obsession with me is not only an annoyance, but it has incited within you increasingly absurd desires to meddle in my affairs. I warned you to cease this ill-founded nonsense immediately, or I would have to make sure you understood the precarious situation in which you have now found yourself."

-_**POW! **_Right on the Kisser! Knock Out! Fatality! The Critical Finish, Mission Failed, do _**not**_ pass go, do _**not **_collect $200 dollars.

In that moment, she could have sworn she heard a car crash, a window break, a baby cry, a tea kettle blow, the hallelujah chorus, the ching ching of a cash register, a cat meow- all in one mix of nonsensical noise that did nothing to explain how she felt. She couldn't have been more dumbfounded than if he had stripped and tried to rape her right there. Her mouth hung open, and she could only imagine how she must look- the blood draining from her face, her hands suddenly tight on the sheet, eyes wide, slack jawed. Her pounding heart shuddered to a halt and for a moment she forgot how to breathe. Her vision faded and she thought she'd mercifully passed out- until she found herself blinking, bringing the spinning world of white and green eyes back into focus. And then reality caught up with her.

Her face burned, and she leapt from the bed, violently throwing back the covers and springing to the floor, running full speed towards the door before her brain could even find the time to process- and she must've missed him- must have missed him because she pulled back on her heels and pumped the brakes so hard and so suddenly she stumbled backwards, blinking owlishly at how quick he had managed to cross the room, she hadn't even seen him move- but there he was, his tall imposing frame blocking the door- her only means of escape.

For one frantic, absurd moment she considered leaping from the window, spreading her newfound wings and flying away. His face was cold and empty, uninviting and unyielding- it hadn't changed even then, even after he'd so easily acknowledged what she had carefully concealed from everyone she'd ever known for months on end. But she'd forgotten it was him- to him, maybe this was a passing fact, like noting on the weather. Not to be seriously considered or even acknowledged- just- just another printed line in the latest newsflash: ( _'Orihime Inoue was killed today jumping from the window of two story building in an attempt to flee from her long time crush, who merely questioned her motives after she was caught stalking him around the campus. The student in question, Ulquiorra Schiffer, only had this to say-'_

-and cue camera running a live feed of reporters staked out in front of his apartment. They jump eagerly as he opens his door. He pauses briefly- to stare or glare is uncertain, before the door is slammed in their faces.

'_-that is all. And now, the weather!')_

"Why did you run? Because my assessment was correct?"

She turned her head- snapped back to the bitter reality she so desperately wanted to escape. There was no doubt- he would have ripped her wings to shreds. She backed up a step, stumbled backwards, a hand blindly reaching behind her until it once again made contact with the bed. She ran her tongue hastily over her dry lips. She opened her mouth, tried to answer him- an indefinable gurgle of sound came out, a funny mix of words and nonsense.

He stepped towards her.

"Answer me Onna."

And all in one breath, it left her. She whipped her head back to face him, and she didn't need a mirror to know how her expression must have been- the desperate edge in her voice, the haggard look in her eyes. She tried to hold in, tried to hold it back- it had long since become painfully obvious to her that he was disgusted by weakness- but that didn't stop her hands from balling into fists, and she had to blink harshly to keep the water out of her eyes. She prayed for hope, for mercy- although for her, surely there would be neither.

"But how did you know! I- I never so much as spoke two words to you since! I don't have any classes with you, I never see you, I had never fully looked you in the face until yesterday, and you've been here for months-and you never- to me I mean, you've never…" her voice trailed off into a whisper, eaten alive by the brooding silence that always seemed to occupy him. She dared a glance at him through her lashes, her lips tight. He was still together, still calm and collected- it seemed almost impossible to think they were having a conversation like this, that she was unwinding to him like this- but he was so unaffected. How could he be unaffected? Did he not think enough of her to even care?

"…You're a witch." She murmured half halfheartedly, half seriously as she stared into the dark abyss of those eyes. She knew she had used the improper term, but she could not have been bothered to recall the specifics she'd learned from her history classes now.

"…Onna, you simply are remarkably easy to read."

For one moment, she considered running forward and slapping him square across the face. Smack him square across, that cold, empty face. Because he had known how she felt all this time- _all this time!_ He had known to some degree, how fiercely she had fallen for him for reasons she couldn't exactly explain, and all he'd done- was nothing.

She stumbled back onto the bed at that thought, feeling oddly enough like a deflated balloon. Through a fog she listened to him, his voice a passionless monotone, mechanical, detached as he explained it to her. Or, as she found herself fondly labeling it in her mind as she drifted in a daze, the _'reason you suck at this' _speech.

"Recently, I have been observing you. Your obvious attempts at avoidance were what first aroused my suspicions of your motives. Your pathetic attempts at stealth are lamentable. It was further confirmed when I found you in my living quarters. The fact that you did not even question the purpose of the equipment in which you found yourself previously entangled alone was enough- if your rapidly increasing body temperature, darkening facial coloring, and shallow breathing was not. I assure you, underestimating my powers of perception was your downfall."

She wondered if this was the part where she was supposed to laugh- or jump out the window anyway. It was a funny bizarre, _what-the-deuce-is-going-on kind of feeling_. Like her mind was stuck, repeating it over and over again, like a broken record-after all this time, he had known- and then again, it was _him_ and it was stupid of her to think he hadn't of known. Her downfall?

_Woah. Hold on a tic._ And then the oddest, strangest, most impossible of thoughts hit her. And she roused from her daze, with some mad emotion that could have almost been hope. She perked up, the wheels in her mind twirling-her downfall?

_No._ And she smiled blissfully to herself, a love sick smile, one of those sugary Disney princesses smile- when they looked from the window of the tower and saw their saviors riding towards them on a shining white horse. The first glimmer of hope roused to life in her eyes, her heart a burst of love and peace and- satisfaction. She had sense to know that maybe she was only pulling at straws, that maybe she was misinterpreting everything he was saying to her, that maybe she was just playing the fool completely missing the point.

But her downfall? It was his. If they'd been playing, she would have yelled to the heavens that she had just won the game. And her smile widened- her smile- she tried to hold in, tried to smother it in her palm. She didn't let him see her face, not now, when her eyes were to bright with a joy to insane to be real, not when something inside of her was soaring and doing the fist pump.

Because he'd practically just openly admitted he'd been stalking her just as much as she had been stalking him. He had just been _better_ at it. She wondered if this was the part where she laughed diabolically and admitted that this had been her plan all along, pull the plug, flip the switch, the walls go boom and then she would hop on the dangling rope ladder and climb up into her get-away helicopter. _'Bingo! Give the boy a cookie! He has won the Grand Prize! Now for the Finale-!'_

She knew she was being stupid, being absolutely ridiculous for being so ecstatic about something so trivial- but she couldn't stop the smile, couldn't contain the grin from sweeping across her face and warming her cheeks. There was a strange tingle in her chest- like finding a kitten in her flower pot, or helping a lost child find his way home. She knew she was taking too much liberty with this, enjoying this too much- he probably hadn't meant to admit it, he probably had no idea about the turn her mind had taken.

She stared down into her lap, playing with her fingers as she enjoyed the warm tingle running through her chest. It was the smallest thing but- it was something. It was something and- she looked up at him. And for the first time, for the very first time- he blinked at her- _blinked _– as if for one startling moment he had to refocus his vision, had to assure himself that what he was seeing was real. Because she didn't hide it.

She looked up and stared straight at him- unabashedly, even though her heart was pounding- and let him _see. _The blush blooming in her cheeks, the warmth in her eyes as she stared up at him through dark lashes, the steady, peaceful smile on her face.

She didn't move her eyes from his- and what she saw in the depths of those emerald eyes was a flicker of something- he didn't back away or blink again- but she could tell, she didn't need to be a mind reader to know- there was a different air about him now, the longer he stared into her face. Still imposing, still cold but- hesitant somehow- and she wondered if for one moment, she was making him feel as anxious as he made her feel.

He stood stock still, immovable. Even though something was changing, some invisible metamorphism happening to both of them- or maybe just to her?- right in front of them, he refused to imply in any way, shape, or form that he was rattled. But something told her he _was _rattling all the same. Stupid woman's intuition? She didn't know how she knew. But they were both waiting, waiting for something to happen and instinctively she knew, that if she never had another opportunity then her time was now because-

This was her Finale.

She sucked in a deep breath, stood up straight so suddenly her knees knocked together. She stomped forward towards him aggressively, slowly, and then so quickly she heard the _pitpat_ of her shoes on the floor run together as if she had been sprinting. He didn't back away from her, he didn't move- her eyes stayed locked on his- and she could see it again, roaring to the surface, he hadn't expected this, his carefully calculated responses were next to nothing to this. He couldn't peg her, he couldn't understand her_- how could she still even consider-?_ Because she walked right up on him, _right up on him_, she didn't think to reach for his shoulders- she grabbed the front of his shirt- she didn't jerk his head down so much as jerked herself upwards-closed her eyes shut- and before she could think, before she could regret, before she could anything else- she smashed her lips against his.

And her face was aflame and burning because she couldn't believe she was doing this, and her mind was stuck on stupid because she couldn't believe she was doing this, and her body was _alive _because she was doing this, and the frigid cold of his lips against her fevered ones was a sensation so bizarre, so weird, and yet somehow so pleasantly chilling a shudder ran through her whole body, a shudder that she could _feel_ to the core of her, and for one blissful moment, her body melted wholly against his.

She'd never kissed before, and after one like this she probably never would again- because it was surely a sin to have a first one like this- even if he was immovable stone beneath her hands, even if he didn't kiss her back, because to hell with it she couldn't stop now, she didn't know how else to reach him when he knew but couldn't understand the fire he could light in her- she wanted him to feel it, he had to feel this, he had to, when she was burning up, when she was on fire, when her heart was pounding and she felt alive, and-

Her hand, the one not entangled desperately in the fabric of his shirt, had splayed against his chest over where his heart should've been and it was funny, and maybe the kiss rape she was literally forcing on him had made her too foggy to be able to determine what else was happening- but it was funny because she could've sworn that in there, under that cold flesh, there was…and then she realized something so startling, so bizarre-

The moment in which she realized it, he was gone. He had not ripped himself out of her arms, he had not disentangled himself from her- he had melted, vanished. One minute her lips had been pressed against his, her body against his, her hands touching him, feeling the cold of him- and the next there was nothing but air and she was kissing the wind. And she stumbled forward, realizing how heavily her body had been leaning against his, literally toppling to the floor once her support had vanished. And she looked up quickly, frantically, her eyes finally finding him- he was standing by the door, with his back to her. That ramrod straight back to her.

She tried to remember how to breathe- the cold of tiled floor was bliss to the heated flesh of her palms, her legs bared beneath her skirt. She raised herself up on her side, running a burning palm up the length of her bare arm. She could feel the goose bumps. She raised her hand to her face, fingertips brushing against her lips- the chill was still there.

She would have given her life to know what kind of expression he wore now. She would have given her _soul_ to know what he was thinking, what had he thought of it, what did he think of her now or- what? She wondered if the act had disgusted him, if her touch had disgusted him, if after all of that, she had further solidified herself as trash to him.

She wondered if, even for a moment, if even for a second, she had made him feel. If only a little.

There was a long moment of intense silence- a pregnant pause that made her gnaw ferociously at her bottom lip. She savored the feel of the cold of his lips against hers.

She hadn't expected him to speak- like a ghost- surely any moment now he would vanish, evaporate into ash. She could feel him begin- and he stopped- it was the one and only time she could recall him being at a loss for words.

"…Someone will be here shortly to inquire as to the state of your health. I…trust your curiosity has finally been appeased, and that you will finally cease all of this nonsense."

She paused, raising her eyes to his back again, feeling a violent upheaval within her at his words. Is that what he thought this was to her? Just…a game? Something silly girls did to pass the time? Something that would just…go away with time? Nonsense? She had never been one to show defiance- but that was surely what was burning in her eyes as she narrowed her eyes at his back. She couldn't ever recall, not even once, feeling this spirited, feeling this passionate about anything or anyone. It was not the type of monotonous every day spirit that she applied to friends suddenly dumped by jerk boyfriends, nor the type of family friendly rage that filled her at sporting events, yelling aptly named cheers at the enemy team.

It was something else. In that brief thought where she'd half way considered slapping him, was from whence this spirit had been born. It was not the hot flame of a woman scorned, but the dull blaze of a woman angered. It was foreign- but welcoming. Bold but necessary. She didn't know she even knew how to be like this, how to be the type of woman that chased the man and gave him what for when he showed his back to her. But he was changing her little by little.

"That's not what it is! You might not be able to acknowledge them, but I know these feelings- are from the heart. Why can't you just admit that?"

Her passionate words were met with silence- she didn't need to see his face to know, she could feel it- the gap between them. The increasingly widening divide that for one brief moment- she had jumped, had landed against the odds on the other side. But she could feel it- the reality of their differences dragging her back to that often hollow world she had previously lived. She felt the spirit, that spirit- leaving her as she realized that it was almost as if- he couldn't understand her. It was a brief, confused silence- and she could feel the strain between them- she pressed her lips together into a thin line, almost not wanting to hear what he had to say. So before he could, tentatively she continued, staring anxiously at his back. For all the honesty in the impassioned words- had she honestly believed that kind of fire would touch such a cold being?

She felt drained- to think that for a moment, she'd thrown away those inhibitions, had for one moment felt like anyone but herself. She'd felt like some dazzling new being, that hadn't been afraid and now…her voice was quieter now, heartfelt. The last thing she wanted, had ever wanted, was to drive him away…not when in this moment she felt closer to him than she had ever been.

"-Why can't you believe them? I mean…this is not something that is just going to…go away. Something this strong, that I can feel inside- the heart just _knows. _You might not understand exactly what I mean- it's kind of hard to explain- but my heart does. And…I won't allow you to mock my feelings."

Again that silence- that strange brooding silence. The bridge- seemed wider than ever. She didn't know how she knew he didn't understand, how she knew that somehow he _couldn't _understand- but she did. And she didn't know why that made her feel so sad. Just right now, in this moment- that proud, straight back- seemed almost lonely.

If there had been anything in him, if there had been any doubt, any compassion, anything- when he spoke again, she knew he had killed it. That strange something vanished almost as suddenly as if it had never been there- she could imagine him shaking it off- that slight weakness her confession had given him, if only for a brief moment. And then she could feel the wall close up between them, the ice back in his voice.

"…I am incapable of passion, nor can I reciprocate the feelings you believe yourself to possess for me. You will cease your enquiries. You will cease your attempts at trying to discern what manner of person I might be. And you will cease these foolish ideals of romantic complications ever occurring between us. You and I are incompatible."

She wondered if he was trying to convince her- or himself.

She could still feel the cold beneath her hands, still vividly replay in her mind that one blissful moment of complete surrender, complete abandon, when she had been against him, melting like hot chocolate over frozen yogurt. It was still too strong- the feel of him, the crisp scent of him- still too strong- she had enough sense left to realize that he was rejecting her in so many words- that he had felt her fire, her heart- for one brief moment. But he was denying it- but the pain only went down to a certain point, and she knew as sure as her name was Orihime Inoue she was going to follow him again in secret at the next given opportunity.

She looked up, her eyes trailing the length of his back with a longing she knew he couldn't feel. Maybe he was right. He probably was. Her eyes drifted to her hands, fisting against the cold tile of the floor. Maybe he was incapable of passion. Maybe he would never return her feelings. It would probably be better for her to give up- they were as opposite as opposites could be. Her ideas of princesses and dragons and mutant half human/dragon hybrids was pretty stupid after all.

"Onna, this is where it ends. I will not see you again."

_Nu uh_, she wanted to tell him, yell at him, stick out her tongue and waggle her fingers in her ears like a petulant child as he quietly left the room, the door shutting silently behind him, leaving her alone. Something had to begin before it could end. And this was where it began- because she would see him again.

Because now that she'd gone through with it, now that she'd done it, now that she'd felt him, touched him, felt the wonderful sensation of her against him- her dreams were going to be like fake jewelry compared to diamonds. She'd gotten a taste of something, of this feeling, and she didn't want to just let it go- not now or ever. And as sure as her name was Orihime and her panties were soaked through, (combined with a strange urge for a shot and a cigarette- even though she had never drunk or smoked nor wanted too)- she knew that no matter what he said now, it didn't matter because it was all said too late.

She loved him now, and she would get him to feel the same way (if only a little) or die trying.

* * *

"Hey how do you get a boy to like you?"

Tatsuki choked on her juice box, shooting a projectile stream of grape flavored saliva right into Rukia's face, who had gotten a bite of cupcake lodged in her throat, and was clawing at her windpipe violently as her body wracked with coughs, and there was five minutes of pure chaos as they heaved and gasped, while she helped them gather themselves together, her face appropriately worried.

Tatsuki wiped her face with a napkin, the expression on her face a funny mix of surprise and pure 'wtf'ness.

"Um…come again?"

She smiled innocently, scratching the back of her head sheepishly.

"Well um…I was wondering how do you get a boy to like you back? I mean- sure he kind of sort of knows that I like him the same way I like cookie and carrot cake, but I think he feels like I'm- um…not exactly the same type of person that he is…kind of." Boy explaining this while they were staring at her with such wide eyed expressions was hard.

Tatsuki blinked, staring at her as if she had just grown a second head.

"Oh um…_wow_…um…_yeeaaah_…"-And let the awkward silence commence!

She knew that Tatsuki thought she was thinking about Ichigo- by the way her eyes darted quickly between her and Rukia- since the whole point was that Rukia no doubt liked Ichigo too. Why else had they been suddenly spending so much time together-? Speculation here and there- they both disappeared at the oddest times, they had been seen running through town, Rukia had been reportedly seen _hanging from his window. _Tatsuki gulped, staring holes in her half empty carton of juice as if she were hoping it would randomly combust instead of having to resort to answering the question.

Rukia on the other hand, got herself together quickly, and leaned on her elbows curiously- she was clueless about everything of course. Bonus Points.

"Well I suppose such a thing would depend on what type of man he is."

This made her pause- and she pursued her lips, her eyebrows knitting together as she tried to think what words could possibly be used to describe someone like him- who was indescribable.

"Well he's…um…really…_different_. I've never met anyone else like him in the history of ever. And I don't think there ever has been. He's just…_different._ He's kind of hard to explain…"

Rukia raised an eyebrow at her lame explanation, rolling her eyes in response as she took the opportunity to nab another bite of the cupcake that had almost killed her. "And you said he knows that you like him?"

She briefly flashbacked to a moonlit confession and bright orange hair- and then the cold, mechanical refusal in the infirmary. That strange, confused silence as he listened to her words. She nibbled on a French fry dipped in chocolate icing and syrup to keep her mind on track, nodding in the affirmative.

"Well in that case- the first thing you should have to do is openly confess. Yes, he may be aware of your feelings, but these things are different when it comes straight from the source, that alone could be enough to change his mind. I've been told that 'Bold' women are in style these days. So you should let him know _exactly_ what you think about him."

She nearly choked herself, struggling to stop herself from heaving chewed fry all over the table at Rukia's subtle comment- she hurried to turn her head and cough into her napkin, giving her burning face time to wheedle back down to a normal temperature. _Bold women?_ She blushed, for the first time the entire incident settling in her mind. Oh _wow_…she'd instigated _kiss rape_.

She fumbled with the thought in her mind, suddenly wondering if the campus police wouldn't roll up in here at any moment, swinging night sticks and taser guns. Handcuffs, finger printing- a criminal line up against the wall, between a Chinese hooker and a female midget, imagining those cold green eyes on the other side of one of those long windows, his long finger pointing right at her. She could almost hear him say it-! _'There's the Onna who attacked me.'_

She could feel the imaginary sweat form on her brow at the thought of balls and chains and cell mates with questionable back grounds. She didn't think there was a charge for that exactly, but contrary to Rukia's belief, he hadn't seemed to particularly enjoy her "boldness." And…she'd still been rejected.

She sighed audibly, before remembering that their eyes were still dissecting her- and at the first sign of her being unhappy or distressed, they would jump on her like wild animals, and all but tear her apart until they could get the truth out of her. She made sure to keep the smile glued to her face when she turned back to them.

"Wow that's some really great advice Rukia- but he's not the type to enjoy things like that I think- I kind of think he may be really awkward when it comes to girls and feelings so…do you have any other suggestions?"

Rukia paused, thinking hard as she rubbed her fingertips against her temples. After a moment she put her hands down, a sly smile on her face.

"Well…it might not be the best idea, but this one is fool proof, especially for someone like you..you could always just use the …aesthetics, _if you know what I mean_." She waggled her eyebrows. Tatsuki stood up forcefully, making the table rattle.

"Rukia quit giving Orihime weird ideas!"

Rukia raised her hands in surrender, waving off Tatsuki's rage. "Don't worry- where I come from, I've seen my fair share of women get men this way. I can even think of one in particular…"-and for a moment, Rukia seemed to shudder in horror at the thought. "-but she was well…rather _loose _by society's standards. But hey, she did always get the man."

Rukai sighed, staring at Orihime for a moment, then looked down at herself. "Must be nice…" She took a hard swig from her soda can, throwing her head back as if she were sipping hard on a container of beer, forgetting the woes of being a small chested woman in today's world in drink. Orihime smiled, feeling slightly embarrassed at the comment- but she had gotten used to it by now.

In fact, she was more curious about something else Rukia had mentioned- where she came from. She rarely, if any time at all, _ever_ mentioned the place she had lived before moving to Karakura. And coupled with this was a mysterious intensity that always seemed to surround Rukia- she was a friendly enough girl, a little strange every now and then, she could vanish without a moment's notice, and could ask some pretty odd questions.

But when it came to Rukia, there were always so many questions on the tip of her tongue. _What kind of place had it been? What kind of people had she known? Why had she come here? _

Rukia had shown up at the beginning of the year- and most notably of all, Ichigo had _already known her_ and had seemed surprised to be seeing her again. Rumor had it- rumors that were slyly whispered between classes, and quieted when she had drawn near- that Rukia had been a summer fling. Rumor had it that Rukia had fallen in love with him to such an extent that she had decided to follow him to University. Before, the thought had pained her- and had led to many an awkward silence between them.

Now, she could bear it- because rumor also had it that she worked after hours at a circus as a trapeze artist. Although it was an awesome job, and a pretty awesome rumor over all- as far as rumors went- she knew better then to believe them now. Although the whole trapeze artist thing had merit.

Tatsuki was staring at Rukia curiously too- as if their thoughts were mirroring each other- but like always, neither of them would ask Rukia anything. They had silently agreed that they wouldn't press her. Who knew? Maybe she was an outlaw vigilante on the run from the police. An AWOL agent being hunted down by the government. A secret spy undercover at their University in an attempt to try and unearth a cock-fighting ring. Or maybe that prostitution ring Nnoitra supposedly had going for him…or maybe too much Lifetime was really starting to be bad for her health.

Realizing that her mind had wandered off again, she came back to reality just in time, as Tatsuki turned to her curiously, a question on her lips.

"So Orihime let's talk some more about this mysterious guy- what do you think he thinks about you?"

She paused, instantly feeling her gaze drop to her hands in her lap. "I think he might consider me… an annoyance. I mean…he kind of made that one clear…but-"

Tatsuki perked up, her eyes vicious as she mentally checked off all the ways she was going to make Ichigo's life hell today for making Orihime sad. And before she could further explain, the girl's voice was in her ears, laced with a venomous rage that made her temples throb. "He must be a fucking pig! What kind of asshole tells a girl she's an annoyance? I say to _hell_ with him!"

She hurriedly gnawed on another French fry in a pathetic attempt to pretend the words hadn't left her. She gulped audibly at the fire in Tatsuki's eyes, knowing well the rage the pint sized girl could unleash whenever she felt threatened. Anxiously, she raised her hands, hurriedly to soothe the older girl.

"_Nononono_ it's not like that Tatsuki! He was right to think so, since I have kind of been stalking him and following him when I thought he wasn't looking and I did kind of sneak into his house-" She felt her face drop. Oops.

"You- _**WHAT?"**_

Tatsuki voice roared across the cafeteria, and everyone within a five table radius paused and perked their ears- when Tatsuki got like this, there was usually no stopping her- and although it was hell for whoever was on the receiving end of her rage, it was pure entertainment for everyone else. Her grey eyes darted hastily around the room, wishing she could burrow underground and live with the mole people, as she listened to the harsh echo in Tatsuki's screech. She struggled to explain, and in her hurry to make this all go away, she effectively managed to dig herself into an even deeper hole.

"I-I- I mean I didn't do it to smell his underwear or steal his toothbrush or anything, like those crazy psycho stalker women do on tv- I just found out he lives near me and my crazy landlord found his key and I was just being nice and taking it back to him, and then I accidentally got hand cuffed to his ceiling-"

"_**WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN HANDCUFFED TO HIS CEILING?"**_

She banged her head against the table. This was going to be a long lunch period.

* * *

He didn't see him again until the evening.

He was pissed as all fucking hell by then, pissed because that bastard hadn't known he had been waiting for him, and pissed because he _had_ been waiting for him. He had stalked the halls with a renewed vigor all afternoon, his hair trigger temper on the verge of a nuclear meltdown, a rage that he could barely control, _**hell**_- much less contain. All he wanted to do was break something, break someone, tear something to shreds, pound someone's face in, the rhythmic smack of his fist against flesh the only comfort he wanted. And then he couldn't really explain why he was pissed, which _pissed him off even more._

So when that bastard finally turned the corner, all he wanted to do was _break his fucking neck_. It wasn't like he'd never seriously considered it- they hated each other in a way he couldn't even begin to describe. And if he had been able to kill the bastard tomorrow, he'd be the happiest mother fucker on the planet.

He leaned against the railing, arms crossed and scowling fiercely as his "oh so wonderful brother dear" –the hell with that_!_- casually walked up to his apartment door as if he weren't even _fucking standing right fucking here less than five fucking feet away from him._

That alone was enough to make him start shit right there, and it took a lot of shit he didn't know he had to hold back the violent tremble in his fingers from going through that fucking skull. He got straight to the point- the quicker this got handled, the quicker he could go back to doing other equally important shit.

"Did you fucking kill her?"

The bastard didn't say anything, just silently pulled his key from the depth of his pocket and placed it in the lock- and turned until an audible click could be heard.

"I do not believe that is any of your concern. Grimmjow."

Grimmjow fist was up and ready to be thrown before he could stop it- and It took a momentous amount of effort to remind himself of all the shitty people in this stupid place, and exactly why he couldn't afford to do shit like this- not just for his ass, but for everyone else's- not that he fucking cared about that. He might not be able to handle things the way he had always handled them, and if it was one thing he was not, it was diplomatic. And nothing got under his skin more, than those half assed answers. Like he was worth less than a fucking _response. _Worth less than a hell yeah or a fuck no, worth less than something so fucking simple. He ground his hand into a fist, feeling the muscles, the tendons, the bones, crack and pulse, fighting to resist the powerful urge to just- go completely _ape shit._

"Ulquiorra you fucking bastard don't you _dare_ spout that bullshit at me. I **asked** you a **fucking** question. _Did you. Fucking. Kill her."_

Aw hell- he didn't know why he even cared. If she hadn't been so fucking _stupid _maybe he wouldn't be asking. It would serve the bitch right- no one else gave a flying fuck about them, it was her own damn fault for poking her nose where it didn't belong. It was just sense, especially to him, to them. Quick solution- eliminate the fucking problem. And he hated that he was even asking, and only asking because princess or not, she had _balls._ And if it was one thing he could begrudgingly respect, it was just that. Had it been anyone else, then fuck 'em. He felt like a chick like that deserved something, compared to all those other stupid bitches that wasted his breath every day.

Ulquiorra opened his door. And if he even took _one fucking step_ without _answering his fucking question _then _fuck_ the rules, _fuck_ the code, _fuck_ survival, right here, right now, he was going to pay the fucking piper.

"Are you implying that I am a fool? I know well the complications of such a hasty action. I am not like you Grimmjow. I can evaluate a situation and choose the most logical course of action."

_**Ugh.**_ What pissed Grimmjow off more, without exception, was a couple of things- aggravating bitches, Ichibitches, and listening to Ulquiorra _talk_. It was rare for the bastard to instigate conversation when he wasn't telling them what the hell they were supposed to be doing, and he was better off because of it. What with that stick shoved so far up his ass and everything. All things considered Ulquiorra might have been the last one to adjust to this, but Grimmjow didn't really care about that. He scowled, flipping the middle finger at Ulquiorra so hard he could have pulled a damn muscle.

"_**Fuck**_ you Ulquiorra. I was just making sure you didn't do anything stupid. You're the one who fucking said we couldn't afford to do shit like this. What the hell was she doing out there anyway?"- and then, now that he thought about-"Is she one of them?"

And the scowl was fierce on his face, his upper lip rolling back to reveal the elongated fangs, a snarl of displeasure-because god help her if it turned out she was, because he would _fucking kill her himself!_

"Calm yourself. Certain fallacies are to be expected. The Onna is nothing but a human."

_Well-no-fucking-duh._ Even he could have figured that out- he supposed some chick babbling shit about ice cream and Wednesdays could barely throw a fucking punch, much less be after their asses. But hell, these days it was hard to tell- they could do this shit pretty easily after all, and those bastards were pretty damn good at this themselves.

Grimmjow had hated Ulquiorra from the time both of them had been born. And after all these years of doing this shit, he still did. But what made him stop and pause as Ulquiorra vanished into the depths of his room was something else- Grimmjow knew his habits like the back of hand by now- and it was the first time Ulquiorra had called a human anything but trash.

Aw hell…he _didn't even want to know. _Especially not when it came to that mellow bastard. There was really no telling what the hell he'd done. As long as she wasn't fucking dead then it was fine. He turned his head to the side and spit black viciously over the edge, storming back down the walk as he ran a calloused hand through his ragged hair. Fuck this. He was getting hungry anyway.

* * *

The advice she'd gotten was horrible. Rukia told her she should sneak back in to his house, and be waiting for him when he got home, to confront him. But then again, Rukia hadn't been there the first time. Tatsuki told her she should 'forget about that bastard' and then had proceeded to storm off, murmuring under her breath that she had 'business to handle'.

She'd asked her other friends- but they had all giggled underneath their palms and suggested she follow Rukia's suggestion. Then others said she should confess personally, even if he already knew about her feelings, these things were different when it came to a girl's perspective. She was lucky she had done _that _at least. But getting herself emotionally prepared for a full on confession was harder now then it had been then. Well she had been younger then…not that being older had changed her that much.

…Okay _maybe_ she had fibbed a little on that. Being older had changed her taste in men _considerably. _Monstrously even.

She's asked Chad- all he'd done was blink his lone eye at her ardent questioning, since when it came to Chad she could sometimes get a little over enthusiastic about explaining things since he was so good at listening, never mind how outrageous she got about telling the story. He of course, mumbled something about rainbows and weather, and had by the time she'd left him she'd forgotten what it was she had to ask him. Uryuu had merely forced his glasses up further on his nose, mumbled some nonsense about having dresses to mend, had grabbed his bag, and hauled fanny out of the room. So much for that idea.

She didn't ask Ichigo.

Cheerleading practice had been uneventful. None of _them _had been there.

By the time she had finished putting up the equipment, it was dusk before she made her trek across town. It probably would have been smarter, not to mention easier, if she had just chosen to live on campus instead of making this journey every day. But even in high school, she had enjoyed the feeling of living and providing for herself- and now more than ever, she needed it. She loved Tatsuki to _death_ but constantly living with her…was…well…yeah. She could only imagine.

It was getting dark quickly, and the sunlight had faded to an early night by the time she managed to get to her bus stop- and as soon as she rounded the corner, she caught a glimpse of the tail end of the bus riding off down the street. She felt her face crumple with disappointment- that was the last bus at this stop, and now she would have to walk two blocks over before she would be able to catch another one home.

She sighed at the thought of walking any further when she was already physically weary from practice, emotionally drained from trying to woo a heartless robot, not to mention fending off Tatsuki when she was on a roaring rampage of revenge. She tentatively moved a strand of hair from her fair, tucking it back behind one of her hair pins, glad of the high pony tail that allowed the breeze to blow against the back of her bare neck as she stared down the imposing street.

If she went through down town, she'd have to be Speedy Gonzales if she even wanted to have a chance of making it to the other bus stop in time. And since she was _not _a little brown mouse with a sombrero, nor was she a long legged road runner being hounded by a coyote, she resigned herself to plan B. She turned, and stared down the dark of the empty to the right of the bus stop.

Plan B- crossing through a couple of imposing alleys, fighting her way through hobos and drunkards, filth and slime, all in order to make it across town in half the time, just in time to burst heroically from the gloom through the sliding doors just in time before they slammed shut, hurl her quarters into the 'Pay here' container, and sit down to a cacophony of applause and wonder. She couldn't make the idea glamorous no matter how much she tried.

She stared down into the gloom of the alley, the rapidly approaching dark, already casting an ominous shadow over the shrouded area. She wrinkled her nose, already smelling the nauseating perfume of week old trash, dog poo, and unwashed grandma. She looked down at her feet, glad the shoes she'd worn today were just high enough to hopefully protect her ankles from touching the filth. She took a step into the alley, nearly vomiting from the smell. She leaned against the alley wall in order to give herself time to adjust, nearly screaming as her palm came in contact with slimy goo she couldn't see in the dim. She shook her hand fiercely, making a face and sticking out her tongue, gagging.

She gulped again, staring back down into the alley. She wondered if it weren't too late to make it across town…

And suddenly, randomly, she thought of something Grimmjow said –of all people- in what seemed to her now to have been years ago.

_**[-Because that's what bitches do. They bitch out when it comes to shit like this.]**_

She didn't know why she thought of that, but the thought unsettled her. Was It because she was feeling so anxious about this? Who wouldn't she? She was all by herself, faced with a back alley with who knows what in there- anyone would be afraid of that right?

No…Rukia wouldn't have been. Not Chad, Uryuu, Ichigo- and especially not Tatsuki. They wouldn't think twice about walking through a couple of back alleys to get home. Not _twice. _And here she was, slightly afraid, already back pedaling, already second guessing. Just like- how trash _would _act. She scrunched her nose, and set her fists, her face determined. Then she could do this, no problem. Even if her knees were wobbling and her heart was pounding and she could feel sweat trickling down the back of her neck. She could do this, no problem.

And before she could think twice, she closed her eyes and sprinted down the alley.

* * *

_AN: Sleepy D:_

_All apologies to be made for the lack of typos/spelling errors/ etc I'm actually pretty astounded by all the reviews I got for this and 3 times as many alerts (It's cool I still love you guys long time anyway!) I was going to reply to all of them, but a surprising number of them were from unregistered members- and partly cause I ran out of stuff to say so sorry I suck so much gais. But really, thanks I was really motivated to continue so keep em coming! I tried with this chapter, even tho it might not be as sexy as chapters past xD  
_

_I also got a surprising number of requests for an Ulqui centric chapter- but I dunno, I kind of like the fact that nobody knows what he's thinking, not even me, the author! And partly b/c quite honestly, I'm not sure my damn self how he would feel about a girl in his basement...not to mention kiss rape. D:_

_...I've kiss raped someone before myself. Fun stuff. But enough about me, tell me what you think guys :,D_

_And of course the saying 'you'll get raped in a back alley' is 999999% true. Orihime must not know this.  
_


	4. We Come Out At Night

**[A**_l__**iC**_e** I**n_C__h_**a**i_n**s]**_

_**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**_

_**[We Come Out At Night]  
**_

* * *

She could hear her footsteps echoing off of the alley walls, making her head ring. She ran quickly, but paced herself, panting quietly. She couldn't really bear the idea of listening to her own ragged intakes of breath and footsteps, or her pounding heart.

She looked neither to the right nor the left as she ran, she could only think of what she'd do when she got back home; kick her shoes off, run the bath water – no, wait, a _bubble _bath. Throw in her rubber ducky, too - she hadn't played battleship in the tub in _ages. _What would she have for dinner? Well first she'd have to clean out the sink. She'd forgotten to throw away that… _article_ from last night. Well, then what? She had a brand spanking new jar of pickles - maybe some whipped cream? Oh _yeah_, the crunchy sweetness of whipped cream and pickles! Might as well, since she'd missed ice cream Wednesday… again. Ah well, hop down on the couch and crunch away Wednesday? What would be on? Nothing, but she had a couple of Disney movies on the shelf she hadn't seen in a while, sing along to Hakuna Matata or A Brand New World… but oh, jiminy cricket! She'd left the bath water running! It was flooding the floor, whirlpooling around the couch - too fast, too fast, grab the broom !- the room was filling faster than she could blink, there goes the table, the tv floating by. It was flooding out into the hall, breaking through the door! She was being swept away, she had to get her bearings, get the broom! She had to steer her way down to the third floor on the tidal wave!

She tripped and went sprawling, barely managing to scream as she hit the asphalt, sliding forward painfully on her knees and hitting the ground for what surely had been the fifth time today.

"Owww!" she murmured before she could stop herself, in the dim barely managing to make out the scratches on her pounding palms. She'd only skinned them, but she winced as she shook them, the sudden wind a slight relief for the pain. She looked up. Far above the alley walls, she could barely make out the sliver of moon shedding a dim light into the alley. It was so dark she could barely make out the outline of her palms. She bit her lip, trying to halt the shiver of fear that ran through her as she looked back down the dark way she had come.

She tried not to think about it, tried not to think about the possessed homicidal maniacs with hooks for hands, slowly creeping down the alley in the darkness… coming for her.

She whipped back around at the thought, gulping audibly as she listened to her heart rate triple, the now rhythmic pounding making her head ache. She must not have been paying attention - she'd gotten lost in the corridors of her own mind again. She just had to be more careful. Hoisting herself to her feet, she winced as her palms began to sting.

She stared intensely into the dark at her feet, attempting to make sure whatever it was that tripped her didn't have any extra odds and ends that she could stumble over. It could be a water hose or a bed of snakes or…

She pried at it with her foot, and it toppled over with a barely audibly clatter. Curious, she crouched down and hesitantly felt along the edges of it; the slope, the curve, the dip - she could even put her hand inside! - the point, the heel… it was just a girl's shoe. _Weird. _Well, she supposed stranger things than girls' shoes could be found in a back alley. She stood up, dusting her hand off on her skirt.

She looked ahead- in the dim, she could barely make out the crossroads before her. She paused, anxiously looking down the three paths open to her. If her sense of direction was worth anything, then the left would take her… Where? Well you couldn't go wrong with straight, right? Or maybe right? She sighed - there was only one _real _way to settle this.

She counted them off. "Eeny, meeny, miny, mo!" She smiled feeling somehow uplifted again. Eeny, meny, miny, mo hadn't failed her yet. Left it was.

* * *

She ground her hips wantonly against his, mewling in his ears with ragged whimpers of barely contained pleasure. Her arms wound around his neck, her fingers fiercely tangled in his hair as she brought his face to hers, crashing their lips together. The hot cavern of her mouth was inviting, welcoming, and he had never been one to refuse an invitation. Hell, he took liberties without them. She moaned into his mouth as he gnawed at her lips. He'd drawn blood from those perfect lips before but by this time she wouldn't have noticed. Hell, by the time he had started greedily sucking on the cut he had created, she'd just about come. He'd be lying if he couldn't say she'd been a good fuck - not the best, by far - but damn good, all things considered. She rode him like a pro, like a good bitch should, and he grabbed a handful of her hair, jerking her head fiercely to the side as ran his tongue up and down the length of her neck.

She groaned aloud, the blunt ends of her fingernails boring into his scalp - not that he even felt it, much less cared, he was satisfied for the night. Five rounds of this and the bitch's legs were going to snap like twigs once he dropped her. His grip had broken them long before, but by this time she was numb, she was blind. All she was aware of, all she cared about was this; the pleasure, the act, the _fucking. _

But it was getting late, and fuck it, good fucking or no, he was getting hungry. He'd had this one riding his dick for a couple of days now, it was about time to bring in some new merchandise anyway. She'd been a good bitch for sure, but he was easily bored. He'd been tame with her, bitch should feel proud he'd even been in the mood to go that far, any other time she'd have been a bloody smear on a wall by now. But _no, _he couldn't do that kinda shit anymore, cause they were fucking hiding and shit like that was too noticeable. _Fuck, _this being on the run shit was getting on his last fucking nerves.

It would have been amusing to rip her head off mid moan; watch it spin on the concrete, watch the spasmodic twitch of her headless body, watch it writhe and twist - that was some _funny shit_. But nooo… no more of that, not unless he was bringing a snack home, and fuck that, it was too much effort, knocking a bitch out and carrying her back. Too much damn effort to be wasted on fucking _food_.

He hissed under his breath at the bull shit that was eating, and placed his hands on both sides of her head, twisting her head viciously to the side, licking his lips at the wet snap that followed, her body visibly crumbling against his. Shame! It would have been nice to hear her scream some more!

Ah well, tomorrow he'd get himself a screamer. Visibly, against her body, there shone a faint flickering outline, a glow that lit her limp body. He frowned. Her soul wasn't anywhere _near _as black as it should've been. Guess the bitch wasn't as much of a slut as he thought. Fucking liar! She better be glad she was dead or he'd have killed her for that! When it came to souls, the darker the better! He particularly liked the _filthy_ ones, as black with sin as they could come. They were as close to the real thing as it could get.

He parted his lips, breathing in, smacking his lips as he devoured the putrid soul, relishing the taste. He dropped the limp body, tossed it to the side. He thought about smashing it up a little bit more, just for good measure, but eh, he just wasn't in the mood for any extra shit today.

It wasn't until he prepared to torch the body that he noticed the other chick. Not the other two, fuck no, those bitches were dead as door knobs. It was the _other _chick - walking anxiously down the alley, fumbling around in the dark. She stumbled, wringing her hands as her pace quickened. She couldn't see him, couldn't see the hastily discarded corpses, but he could see her.

Fuck. See? This was the drawback of being stuck in this shitty body. If he'd been anywhere close to himself, bitch wouldn't have even made it past the alley before he would have been torching her ass - her rather fairly rounded ass, if he could've guessed. He couldn't see half as good in this shit, couldn't smell half as good in this shit. Hell, even the taste of dinner was muted in this shit. If a soul wasn't blacker than all hell, he wouldn't even taste it sliding down his throat. He'd passed his quota for the day fucking hours ago, so he could just let the bitch go, she would pass by him without noticing anything, as poor as her fucking human eyesight was. He was glad as hell his hadn't gotten that bad or they would have never gotten shit done.

She was right up on him before he got a whiff of her, the bitch smelled nice. Familiar, too. In the dark, he narrowed his eyes at her, running them greedily up and down the length of her body, and the smile was on his face before he ever saw hers. Hell, he'd recognized those appetizing tits anywhere! That plump ass itself had looked familiar. It was his lucking fucking day!

His grimed widened considerably, as unawares, Orihime Inoue strode anxiously past him.

He nearly laughed aloud - fear looked so fucking nice on her! He could smell it, the bridled terror that had her on edge, that made her nibble at those succulent lips, that made her hands tremble and sent a barely visibly tremor up and down the length of those legs. Bitch _was_ alive! Who the fuck would've known? And here he'd thought one of those other bastards had called dibs on her! But she wasn't marked as future prey, hell, there wasn't a damn scent on her. Shame on the fucking bastard who let her get away unharmed!

He grinned malevolently as he stalked behind her- this was a duty, right? As far as he was concerned, the bitch hadn't learned her place was at all, and she thought she would be fine, that there weren't going to be repercussions for her poking that cute little nose where it didn't belong. His tongue lolled out of his mouth. She was clouded with the faint scent of an innocent.

And the way her ass moved in that skirt! This had to be the _fucking best day ever_- he stretched out a long arm to grab a handful of that ginger colored hair- or maybe she was a lucky bitch. She should consider herself fortunate for what he was about to do to her, there'd been a time when women had begged him for this, crawled on their knees and _begged._

He'd forgotten that he'd ever been satisfied, the hunger back with a vengeance as he grabbed her, grabbed her by the length of her hair and _pulled. _The effect was immediate. The shrill scream of terror that exploded from between her lips was fucking music to his fucking ears! He laughed aloud as he swung her around, snatched her by her shoulders and shoved her back against the wall. Her pained gasp of surprise as a tremor raced through her body, the way her eyes widened and gleamed in the dark, the fear, the _fucking fear_! He _lived _for shit like this, for ruining clean, good little girls like this-! She opened her mouth to scream and he shoved his thumb in, prying it open further. She gurgled in surprise, her tongue running hastily over the appendage, and the warmth of it against his flesh was enough to make him want to throw her to her knees right there. She tried to swing her arms against him. The bitch thought her pathetic punches were capable of anything? He grabbed her flailing arms and slammed them above her head. She whimpered, a broken cry strangled in her throat as she tried to shake herself free of him, but he pried her legs apart with his, pinned them to the cold wall.

Those gorgeous eyes, with that pretty, pretty edge of horror in them had already spilled over, hot trails running down the length of her cheeks. She had no idea, no fucking idea who he was, what he was, or she'd have fucking peed herself by now, lost her fucking mind by now…

He grinned into her face, drawing closer to her, to feel her ragged intakes of breath against his neck, let her see the darkness in his eyes, let him relish the fear in hers.

"The darling princess! Do you know why good little girls don't wander dark alleys this time of night? _No?_"

He grabbed a hold of her face, shaking her head roughly up and down. A particularly marvelous and appetizing sob racked her chest.

"Didn't ya' know, little girl? The monsters come out at night. And ya' know what else? There's nothing monsters _love more_ than stupid little girls and pampered princesses…"

She trembled beneath him, futilely attempting to wrench her face out of his iron grip, wriggling her body to try and squirm out of his grasp. What a silly bitch! Stupid tricks like that were for kids, and hadn't he told her already? He was a fucking monster.

He bent his head, lapped his tongue roughly down the slender column of her neck, feeling the erratic pounding of her pulse jump beneath his tongue.

She was about to find out.

* * *

"I'm as surprised as you are, he's never exactly been the type to just let things go like this. Sure, he had far too much sense to kill her, and especially since she's such a well known figure in this area. But on the other hand, it wouldn't have taken much effort for him to find out her true motives- she _was_ spying on us you know. He's particularly good at that I would say. If she so much as begins to suspects anything at all… but it really is due to these inefficient bodies. If we had noticed her sooner she could have been effectively handled."

He sighed into his palm, letting his finger toy around the edge of his glass, admiring the color and density of the liquid within it. It was an admirable experiment indeed, despite being conceived in boredom. He looked across the counter at the heavier, sturdier built, dark skinned man, efficiently swirling a rag around in an attempt to clean the bottom of a glass. He bent to place it back into the cabinets beneath the counter, surprising for someone of his build. Syazel let his eyes roam around the dimly lit bar. The chairs had already been placed atop the tables, the door locked, the Open sign flicked off.

He leaned against the counter, raising an eyebrow as he watched the man place assorted bottles of alcohol into an appeasing arrangement within the glass cabinets that lined the wall behind the counter, the rag tucked into his bag back pocket. Syazel sighed, taking the glass up in his hand and swirling the amber liquid around and around.

"My, my, Zommari, you sure as hell live up to your name sake, that's for sure. You really took this whole 'Intoxication' thing literally…"

Once he was finished with his task, Zommari quietly locked the liquor cabinet, and turned to his brother, watching the way his eyes peered curiously at him over the rim of his wire framed glasses. His voice was low, quiet, and meditative, when he spoke.

"We all have our callings."

Syzael let loose a low bark of laughter, placing the glass to his lips and taking a swig, draining the glass before he placed it back on the counter. He could barely feel the burn of it. It would no doubt take many more of these to even get him buzzed, much less drunk. These humans… intoxicating themselves, drowning their sorrows, their despair, their fear and worries in glass after glass of this. If only it were so easy; finding out how many of the glasses it would take before he too could be like that would be something worth discovering. He pushed his glasses further up the length of his nose, ran a hand through his hair as he stared into the dark eyes of his brother.

"Callings, huh? You sound like a mad man. Hollows don't know of such things."

Zommari stared at him quietly for a moment, with that unsettling gaze that was unsettling like Ulquiorra's, but different, because behind it was more than emptiness. There was a funny kind of warmth that he sometimes could kid himself he could actually feel, as a ridiculous a notion as that was. He eyed the cross around Zommari's neck, though that alone was enough to make him burst into bitter laughter sometimes. A Hollow with religion. Who would have thought? Of all the absurd, ridiculous things…

Zommari face remained impassive, as he watched Syazel's eyes wander around the length of the bar. There was a particular reason why he was surprised to find his bespectacled brother at his bar this time of night. He did not often see them- not since Syazel had foregone the university route in lieu of a position that gave him more accessibility to two of his favorite things- technology and knowledge. He was particularly interested in studying human anatomy, diseases and plights. There was a particular reason from his distance from the rest of his brethren- and Syazel had just represented it- a difference in had faith that there was hope for them yet. The rest had long since given up. They all mocked and refuted the idea of salvation, denied the peace it would bring them. He had been the only one.

He didn't hold it against them.

Syazel brought his gaze back to Zonmari, leaning forward again onto the counter, motioning for him to take the empty glass. As Zommari grabbed it with a heavy hand, an admirable feat, for how delicately he managed to handle it, Syazel spoke.

"-But Zommari, you know what I find so strange?"

Zommari tucked his head to show he was listening, as he grabbed the rag from his back pocket and swiped it around the inside of the glass. Syazel eyed the motion of his hands for a moment, gathering his thoughts as he thought of the irregularity of such a simple action, of such a simple refusal those green eyes had given him.

"Ulquiorra has never been one to keep secrets or withhold important information- even the slightest of things- if it had any possibility of endangering us. Hell, if there had been a chick on the corner who had asked him his name one too many times, we would have known about it. That's part of the reason why we've been able to do this shit for so long without being discovered. But this was the first time, you hear me, the first time…"

And he thought of those emerald eyes, that blank face, closed off, but not as usual. Detached, not just from the rest of the world, but from them, as he hadn't just been ignoring them for once, but completely _unaware _of them. Syazel had never known that guy's mind to be pre-occupied with anything, not when nothing could catch his attention, not when every single thing around him was beneath him, trash. And he thought of that guy, that same guy who consistently warned them about making foolish mistakes, letting such a big deal go. Letting that girl go.

"…the first time he didn't tell us fucking _anything_. I was curious- we all were- how did he handle it? How much did she hear? What did she suspect? What did she know? Who would she tell? All questions of vital importance for beings like us, who have to rely on such things for survival. Know what he said? _It was none of our concern. That he'd effectively handled it himself. That there was no need for us to be involved in something so trivial."_

Zommari noticed the anxious gleam in his brother's eyes, and placed the glass and rag on the counter, pulling out a stool so that he could sit himself comfortably. As slight an action as it was, as insignificant as it should have been, it was made all the more jarring considering the one it'd came from.

"…What do you suspect?"

Syazel scoffed. "What do you mean 'what do I suspect'? If it were Grimmjow or Nnoitra, it would be hell of a lot easier to guess. Either she got the shit beat out of her and wouldn't talk if you paid her, or she's so emotionally scarred, all she'll be able to do is beg for her mother to make the memories go away. This isn't either one of them. This is _Ulquiorra. _Your guess is as good as mine."

There was a brief silence.

"…You said she was well known?"

Syazel scoffed again, this time with a half-hearted smile as he waved his hand away in jest.

"You've heard of this one before- small town, there's always _that _girl. Everybody loves her, everybody adores her, everybody's her friend… Hell she was even friendly to _Grimmjow_, that uncouth ill-mannered beast, of all people. Leads me to believe her reputation is well deserved, if she can speak to… _that_ without losing a limb, at the least a couple of teeth. I'd seen her a couple of times, she sometimes accompanies the lady that runs the apartments to and from her hospital visits. She's so fucking cheerful about everything it'll make you sick to your stomach. She talks to those old farts in their wheel chairs, reeking of death, and can make them forget… it's such a curious thing. People like her remind me all the time, all these years, I still don't know shit about what it means to be human. What about you? Seems to me sometimes like you've forgotten you're monster."

He narrowed his eyes as he saw the pity in Zommari's gaze. He swallowed the curse on his breath, it was pointless. There were better things to get annoyed about, he had potential problems to solve, when it got like this he could think in text, think in organs and bodily functions. Think of monitors and blood pressure and other things. He stood up abruptly.

"Well Zommari it's been fun-"

"…What's her name?"

He paused, eyes widening in disbelief as he looked at the massive man, but his face was serious, his mouth set as he asked. Syazel quirked an eyebrow at the bizarre question, then shrugged his shoulders.

"Her name's Inoue Orihime."

"…I would like to meet her."

And he _did_ laugh at that, even though he knew Zommari had asked seriously, with all his intent behind it. It wasn't meant to be taken as a joke, but it might as well have been.

"If you're ever granted that wish, it won't be because of anything good. She'll either be with us… or dead."

* * *

She was having a really scary dream, that's what it had to be. It was really weird, one of those freaky deaky dreams where she had to wonder if it was happening at all, and she didn't want to think too hard about that, because it was far too frightening to be real. Because the rough hands, the fierce and cruel strength of those hands viciously running up the length of her body, the slimy appendage running down her neck, suckling hard enough to bruise… couldn't have happened in anything but a nightmare.

She tried to hum herself deeper into sleep. That usually worked when the haze set in, when the fog over came her and her mind started to drift away from reality. But this time her imaginary clouds of suppressed fantasies weren't filled with emerald eyes and cold hands, but slimy smiles and wicked grins. She didn't like them- she wished they would go away. She wished they would go away.

She didn't know if the tears were real or not, didn't know if this was real or not, but what she did know, what she could feel through the haze was a certain degree of numbness. She had to have been a secret super woman, impervious to pain. She was invincible, and undefeatable. She could use her enormous strength to beat the tar out of her nemesis, Slimy Smile, she'd kick the teeth out of his wicked grin. And she'd swoop back down to adoring applause… Who knew she was that great! Who knew she was that awesome?

Tatsuki would ask her to share her secrets on how to complete a teeth smashing roundhouse that could bring even the slimiest smilers to their knees. Rukia would tell her she could hardly believe that her crush didn't like her back. And then she would remember- how could she have let herself forget? But her eyes would search the crowd in vain, no green eyes and ghostly pale skin.

But it was fine! She would fly to his house, kick his doors in, swoop him into her arms, maybe spin madly around the room- and it was funny, she could see him, trying his best to keep a straight face next to her smiling one, right up until the part where the lights dimmed and the spotlight was on them, and she'd rip off her uniform, be in the slinky red dress, nab a rose between her teeth, waltz all over his living room. To cheers and whistles she'd dip him low, tell him he was all she ever wanted in a man. And she wouldn't be embarrassed, because super women did that kind of stuff all the time, and pull him back up to his feet, jerk him closer, an arm around his waist, her hand in his. And no matter how hard she tried to imagine a smile, all she could get was that impassive frown. But it was fine, she'd dance him through every room in his house, right down to the basement. She liked that he played hard to get.

And she thought of the samba; him, frowning in a pancho and sombrero as she danced around him barefoot, shaking her maracas for all she was worth. And then, _change time!_ The disco ball would drop from the ceiling, the lights would dim, rainbow colored beams bouncing all around the room, dazzling her, and then she'd be in platform heels and spandex, maybe a green jump suit for him. Aw, no good- still that frown! But it was fine, she could think of plenty more, because then it was time for the warehouse rave! And there she was, in a room pulsating with people, deafening with music that could blow your brains out. Dancing in a cage, glow in the dark neon rings draped around her neck and ankles, her wrists and hips, she looked out over the crowd to find him. There were so many people! So much noise, her inhibitions lost in the pulsating wave of noise, dazzled by the swirling lights.

And immediately, she spotted him, standing out as awkwardly as they came, the green eyed elephant in the room. He was in the center of a would be mosh pit of teens weirding out on ecstasy and all that other weird stuff Tatsuki told her rave people did. And he was looking bored as ever, with those over-sized headphones on his ears and a light up pacifier in his mouth, coolly making his way to the door.

She wanted to laugh at him, until her stomach ached and tears of mirth traveled down her face. Wasn't he having fun? Wasn't this awesome? Because _she_ was having fun trying to help him have fun, _she_ was having fun trying to make him smile, because he really needed this, he really needed to learn what it was like, and she was going to teach him how to feel and maybe one day… _maybe one day_…he would even like her back.

Maybe…but she was suddenly acutely aware of the roving hands, the wandering mouth against her, scorching against her fevered skin. And then she lost herself in the maybes, and let the dark take her.

"What have you fucking done!"

He snarled, his clawed hands at Nnoitra's throat, and burrowing steadily deeper into the flesh of his cold neck. The girl was sprawled out on the filth of the cold alley floor, her hair sprawled around her face in a ginger colored wave, her golden skin a beacon in the night. She lay on her side, her legs out spread, one arm drawn up to her chest, the other thrown haphazardly in front of her, the front of her shirt had been torn to shreds, the silk of her bra viciously shredded, the scraps of the fabric littered around her, various buttons and snaps and ties of her clothing scattered across the alley floor.

She looked broken.

He'd only been on this side of town by chance, by _mother fucking chance._ And what a bitch this was! He'd just had to deal with everyone else's speculations, their wonderings about Ulquiorra's questionable response for how he'd dealt with her, and wouldn't you fucking know it, t_his shit _up and happens! Was this chick suicidal or what? Seriously, how many fucking bad things could happen to one fucking chick in a fucking day? He'd never seen such an unlucky bitch! But there she was, lying there like a fucking bird, her eyes half lidded and blank, and _hell _she wasn't moving, wasn't doing anything but lying there. And he wanted to yell at her, fucking shake her, shit make her do _anything_ but lie there looking like…_that._

The sight pissed him off so much, he tightened his grip on the putrid neck of the shifty eyed man-, lifted him forward, and hurled him back against the concrete wall hard enough to make the building shake and cracks begin to spider web across the moldy bricks.

It took everything in him not to snap the man's fucking neck, and he was sorely tempted. Hell, a few broken bones wouldn't _kill him,_ not now, when his breath reeked of virgin blood and he was freshly fed, it would hurt like a bitch but he wouldn't die. Nnoitra's face grew grim considerably fast, and Grimmjow thoroughly enjoyed the way that slimy, disgusting smile vanished from his face. He lagged his tongue out of his mouth, flashing that 'five' tattoo that he wore so horribly well.

"C'mon now Grimmjow, what's it to ya? She came up while I was feedin'. Ya know how those things can go, once the instincts kick in, she smelled nice and I was in the mood for an extra snack. Can you blame me?"

What did he mean could you fucking blame him! When that damn chick…! The one _**Ulquiorra**_of all the fucking people in the fucking world had _spared_, was lying half dead on the fucking ground looking like she was fucking broken!

It wasn't even because he was especially righteous or any shit like that, if she wasn't so _fucking stupid _maybe he wouldn't feel so obligated about this. It wasn't like he'd never seen a dead body, hell, _he'd been the cause of death most of the times he'd seen one. _Maybe it was because she was too dumb to live, she reminded him too much of Nel kind of, a wide eyed imbecile who was too damn friendly _and just look with that kinda shit got you. _Half dead, half naked in a back alley. If she hadn't been so _fucking friendly! _

Maybe it was because he'd gotten his fair share of ass whooping for _exactly _the kind of shit Nnoitra was pulling right now. _And oh mother fucking joy, _the victim this time _just happened_ to be the bitch in question. He could already for see how this was going to end, and he damn sure wasn't looking forward to it.

"This is exactly the kind of fucking shit we were trying to avoid you fucking bastard! And what the _**fuck**_ are you even fucking doing feeding on this side of town dip shit! You might as well invite the Shinigami over for a fucking tea party! Aw fuck, I can't even _believe_ this shit! That bastard is going to have our asses on a platter for this! And you couldn't just get some bitch out the gutter who nobody would know, that _fucking princess_? You better pray she's alive or so help me I'm going to fucking kill you!"

He slammed the spindly form of Nnoitra into the wall once more for good measure, twice and then three times just because he was positive he was going to get the shit knocked out of him for this some way or another, and he didn't even have anything to fucking do with it this time! Disgusted, he hurled Nnoitra away from him, eyeing the way the puncture wounds in his neck healed up, leaving only the black stains of the dried blood behind.

"Oh my… well isn't she just so _precious_! She just passed out, ya? Bitch'll be fine."

He wagged his tongue, and Grimmjow resisted the urge to rip the slimy appendage right out of that vomiting trash pile he called a mouth. But the thought of feeling around up in there, when who knows where that shit had been, disgusted him. The alley was filled with the stink of death, the empty husks of Nnoitra's earlier prey was proof of that. If he'd taken any longer she would've been dead by now.

Jeez! Once again, how many times could a bitch get lucky in one day? First she'd managed to speak to him without losing her fucking teeth and strangely managed to gain his respect, and how the hell had that happened? She'd lived through the horror that was Mr. Nihilistic-I-hate-humans-everything-is-meaningless himself without jumping in front of the first car she saw or hanging herself, and she had narrowly missed being raped in one of the vilest ways imaginable.

And he scowled, clicking his teeth. Good thing too. He wasn't fucking up to doing the whole moving shit again. Too much fucking work, and he kind of liked this little shit hole. It was better than the rest.

Nnoitra walked back over to him, fully recovered, his hands shoved in his pocket and his shoulders hunched in a grotesque way, especially for someone of his height, and he was still able to run his eyes up and down the body of the woman sprawled on the ground.

"It's a shame, ya know, you see those tits? Her body was _made _with shit like this in mind. You sure ya don't wanna…?"

"Listen, you _sick fuck,_ we are **not **going to fucking rape her, so get your narrow ass in gear and let's get the fuck out of here before…"

He even didn't get to finish, because then they both felt it, the _dip_, the flavor of barely contained power wafting in the air. It was a pungent odor of burning candles and incense, the scent of… Grimmjow drew in a breath, wishing he could spit out the smell of the fuckers he hated more than anything else in the fucking world, Ulquiorra included. Nnoitra straightened up, a barely contained curse rolling from his lips.

Grimmjow snarled into the open air, cracking his fists, feeling the power flowing through him. Even with Nnoitra fed, half-assed as he was, he would only get himself killed. And there were two of them. One, perhaps, wasn't worth the effort, but the other was going to be a damn headache. He cursed under his breath, fucking this whole day in general, their situation, that bitch, and most of all Nnoitra.

"Nice going, dipshit. The Shinigami now know we're here."

* * *

"My, oh my. You two have found yourselves in _quite _the predicament."

His room was a complete tornado of clothes and crap, and he never cleaned because he thoroughly believed only bitches and women believed in something so ridiculous, and he was neither. The girl had been hastily thrown onto his crap of a couch, over piles of clothes, magazines, and a whole bunch of other crap he couldn't have been bothered to move just because she was an unconscious girl who had almost been raped. Fuck chivalry.

Syazel leaned over the limp form of the girl, gently prying open her eyelids to peer into her pupils. The grey orbs were hazy and unfocused, blank. He drew himself upward, shaking his head, the irony of this was too scary to be amusing.

"Some manner of self-induced coma. To be more literal with you, gentlemen, she's in a state of extreme shock. How…expected of you, Nnoitra. Not only have you literally drawn the attention of our enemies, you've most likely managed to scar this girl for life. We'll be lucky if she remembers her own name when and if she wakes up. And to be quite honest with you, I'm really looking forward to seeing how our precious brother deals with the two of you. He's always been an adamant disciplinarian. It should be quite interesting to watch."

Grimmjow snarled at his least favorite pink haired faggot of a brother as he paced madly up and down in his room, cursing under his breath and running a calloused hand through his shaggy hair. It _fucking figured_. Even Syazel knew they were about to get their asses handed to them.

"What the fuck? No porn?"

Nnoitra's long body was spread across one of his broken in arm chairs, his long arm propping up his head as he idly flipped through the television channels with the other, as casually as if this were a normal weekday afternoon and they were _not_ about to pay the fucking pied piper.

Grimmjow was seriously suppressing the urge to pound the fucker's head in.

He scowled at Nnoitra, hell, it felt like that's all he'd been doing for the last couple of minutes.

"Well, aren't you fucking chipper? We better hurry and get our shit together, because when he finds out, I'd prefer only a couple of broken ribs rather than a limb… shit's _not_ fun to grow back."

"Eh? I still don't get why this chick is such a big fucking deal. After all this hassle, I say we just fucking kill her already. So what if he spared her?"

He rounded onto the shifty eyed man, feeling the barely suppressed rage boiling just beneath the surface of his consciousness. Hell, if they'd still been outside…

"What the _fuck. _Are you on some seriously strong shit or are you just fucking stupid? Hell, we've all figured it out by now! He let her go without fucking doing anything, he won't say anything about what fucking happened, and, get this, _mother fucker_, he didn't even call her trash! There's something mystical about this bitch or something, and fuck her being unconscious as long as she's not dead, we can just dump her nearby for that old hag to find her, as long as she gets the hell up out of here before…"

And he blinked, a barely restrained curse muffled under his breath as he stumbled back with his fists clenched, his jaw set. Nnoitra practically leaped from the armchair, his eyes wide and his mouth tight as the remote clattered from between his fingers onto the floor. Syazel wisely tucked his head in acknowledgement, taking it upon himself to back away as far as the room allowed for the oncoming massacre, a smug smile on his face.

Grimmjow swallowed viciously, cursing that stupid son of a bitch and his _damn_ sonido. That bastard could really fly when he had the mind to. He tried to keep cool, tried to tell himself to quit being a little bitch, it was only Ulquiorra; only that fucking green eyed, pessimistic, stick in the mud bastard suddenly standing in the middle of his fucking room as if he had been in here the entire time. Ah hell, he could have been, and _that_ was the _fucked up_ part. Despite the change and sudden limitations, Ulquiorra had been able to retain a lot of his former powers. Lucky asshole.

He saw Nnoitra watching Ulquiorra warily, probably trying to judge how much time he was allotted to speak before the inevitable beat down began. Grimmjow didn't even begin to bother with that pointless shit. He wasn't some fucking kid, who had to come up with fucking excuses so brother dearest wouldn't throw him into a fucking corner for a time out. But he knew the rattled, anxious look on Nnoitra's face probably mirrored his own, and that was what really pissed him off about Ulquiorra. He might not have been the strongest yet, but he could still fucking disconcert any of them.

Ulquiorra stood almost casually in the middle of the room, his back as ramrod straight as ever, his hands in his pockets. He was standing perfectly still, and from this angle, Grimmjow couldn't see his face, but from the tilt of his head, it was pretty obvious that he was staring at the girl sprawled out on his couch. And those stupid eyes wouldn't miss a _damn_ thing.

He'd noticed her shallow breathing, and would easily deduce that she was unconscious, not just asleep. From that he would deduce that she'd either been knocked unconscious or had passed out from mental trauma. It would be easy enough for him to determine which, what with the obvious bruises lining the column of her neck and collarbone, her ripped shirt. He'd tried to pull it together, the only real effort he'd made to preserve her modesty- but as she'd laid there, she'd shifted slightly, and without buttons to keep it closed her shirt had drifted open, revealing a thin line of flesh that clearly revealed the sides of her bare breasts, the smooth expanse of her stomach, complete with a rather lovely bruise along her right hip from where Nnoitra's hand had grasped her a little too tightly. And of course, it would be easy enough for him to determine who was more at fault here, especially since there was a sickeningly familiar scent wrapped around her body.

Ulquiorra turned his head lightly, and those emerald eyes met his. Yeah, they were still empty, empty and dark as all hell, but if Grimmjow didn't know any better, he could have sworn there was almost a cold, mechanical violence suddenly present behind them. He could almost hear the word _Trash_ reverberating in his ears. The thought made him laugh.

And that's when the cold fist met his face. His ribs broke, all of them. Simultaneously. His arm was lightly pulled, and dislocated. He crumpled to the floor, reeling and cursing and choking on the hot blood and teeth filling his mouth, but grinning because whatever he got was going to be a _hell _of a lot better than what Nnoitra got.

The thought was immediately confirmed when the torn arm was casually thrown near his face, complete with Nnoitra's anguished snarl of pain and anger, then lost in the midst of a strange gurgle. He hadn't known what it was until the slimy appendage was writhing- with the tattooed side up- directly in front of his face. He laughed again, a hot, steady stream running over his chin, spitting teeth, despite the horrific pain that seized him at the notion. Beat down aside, he wouldn't have to listen to Nnoitra's shit for a while.

"Hey, Ulquiorra, you should tear his dick off, too!"

A foot ground his face into the floor boards for the effort, effectively putting him to sleep for a while. Hell, he couldn't even take a suggestion? Bastard.

* * *

He whistled, low and high, underneath his breath at the cold calculated brutality of what had just played out literally before his eyes. If he hadn't seen it… wait, no, he would have still believed it. Hot _damn. _

"My, my, Ulquiorra! It's been awhile since I've seen you quite so…upset."

Well, anger wasn't exactly the correct word to be tied to a person such as him, who never truly felt anything, nor adopted any pretenses when it came to the well known fact. The blank expression on his face one could hardly liken as to being 'upset.'

Grimmjow was lying face down on the floor, or to be more specific, his head was quite a few feet deep in board and plaster, a hole that would no doubt be filled with blood by morning. What had been interesting to note, however, was that Ulquiorra had not broken his ribs neatly, nor dislocated his shoulder with that infamous precision for which he was known. Instead, the action had been done much more violently, in a way that left him with no doubt that he wanted them to suffer as much as possible from the wounds. And he could only look at Nnoitra and wince, after noting his limp form lying face down in a pool of black blood, what remained of his arm merely a truncated stub. Although he could tell Nnoitra had fed, it would be quite a while before he would be able to use that arm effectively again.

He felt privileged that he had not been punished, simply by association. Still, he warily watched as Ulquiorra flicked the blood from his fingers, before placing his hands back into his pockets. Syazel almost sighed audibly with relief. For the moment at least, the danger had passed.

For the first time, Ulquiorra looked at him, and it was strange because he could have sworn that if he hadn't said anything, those emerald eyes would have stared past him as if he did not exist.

Those strange eyes leveled at him, although he turned neither his head nor his body, but all the same, he felt that deliberate chill run down his spine. Ulquiorra's glance could sicken him for the exact opposite of why Zommari's sickened him. Grimmjow had his pride, Nnoitra his lust, Nel her innocence, even himself- his desire to learn all he could about this world.

Ulquiorra had nothing.

From his words, to his actions, to the depth of those emerald eyes, there was _nothing_. He did not have friends, he didn't have enemies… perhaps, in his mind there was no one worthy of either. Hell, he didn't even know if Ulquiorra considered any of them to even be comrades. Maybe they were all just filth to him. He had a violent urge to point blank ask the cuatro espada what he was thinking. But he scoffed at the thought. As if he were "worthy" of even that. He was the Octavia, he wasn't supposed to get explanations, he was supposed to give them.

"They deliberately disobeyed my orders and had to be properly reprimanded. Not only are the shinigami now absolutely aware of our presence, but it will not be long before they pin point are location and attempt to uproot us."

He let loose a barely contained sigh of annoyance. Of _course. _He considerably doubted anything else could go wrong today.

"All that can be done now would only be to delay the inevitable. If we fight the shinigami, their deaths would immediately draw the eye of the Soul Society, and it would not be long after before they would dispatch a team of captains to effectively annihilate us. We are not adequately prepared for such an assault. For the moment, the best course of action would be to avoid even the slightest of detection for a few days. Although they are now certain we are here, it matters not. They are still uncertain towards our identities. I however, am completely aware of theirs."

Syazel nearly went through the roof at the news, gaping wordlessly for a moment as he tried to collect his thoughts, pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing deeply to stop the frustration from showing on his face. Oh, _of course!_

"And…exactly _when _did you become aware of this? Fine time to just… drop this bomb on us Ulquiorra."

"I am not one to spout incorrect information just because it suits your purposes, Octavia. I had to be absolutely certain that my deductions were correct before I deemed it necessary to reveal what I have discovered. For the sake of security, I will reveal this information only to you, the primera, segundo, and tres. The others will not be made aware simply because of the sensitive nature of the persons involved, and simply because they lack the mental capabilities to maintain control of their emotions in light of the present circumstances."

He almost rolled his eyes. Well, shouldn't he feel special? "Fair enough. Who are the shinigami we're dealing with?"

"Rukia Kuchiki and Ichigo Kurosaki, both in attendance at the Karakura University in which we are currently enrolled."

He paused, his eyes wide as he rubbed them, feeling the strain. He had long since grown past the point of surprise. Being surprised would only make him look weak. He'd learned from past experiences to just roll with the punches when it came to Ulquiorra, anything other than that was nothing short of incompetence.

"Guess they weren't too far off base were they? What else have you deduced thus far?"

He paused, and Syazel could almost imagine him flipping through his mental file cabinet. Ulquiorra's deduction skills were not only impeccable, but impossibly accurate. There was nothing he could not discern with time. And he could vividly relay and recall anything he had seen or heard with perfect clarity. Anything those green eyes of his could not see, and he could not find the words to properly explain, did not exist.

"Rukia Kuchiki is the Shinigami. I can safely assume that this district is under her supervision, but as of yet I am unable to accurately deduce to what cause I can attribute her allowing the boy, Kurosaki Ichigo to siphon from her powers. Currently, he is merely a 'Substitute'. I am uncertain as to whether or not Soul Society is aware of this, but it is highly unlikely as allowing such trash to play Shinigami is surely considered a serious offence. For now, we are not in any present danger, the current level at which Kurosaki Ichigo's power resides can hardly be considered a threat, due to how rapidly it fluctuates, as well as the instability of his spiritual pressure."

He nodded, a hand under his chin as he seriously considered the delicate situation in which they found themselves. This town was a lit keg ready to blow. If Soul Society had not yet discovered Rukia Kuchiki's insubordination, it would not be long before they did. Although she would most likely be considered a traitor because of it, whose words would hardly be acknowledged, there was still a possibility that the Shinigami dispatched to deal with her would become aware of them. In which case, delaying the inevitable would be all they _could_ do.

He sighed, already feeling the headache brewing behind his eyes. He suddenly understood the desire of wanting a drink. His eyes wandered to the prone body of the girl, still sprawled out on the couch. It really was all of her fault. If he'd have known then what a headache her simple action was going to snowball into, he'd have dealt with her himself, consequences be damned.

"Well? And what does sparing this girl have to do with any of this?"

He watched carefully, attempting to see if the question had caught Ulquiorra by surprise, or at the least, caused any visible reaction in him. Ulquiorra's face remained as cold and unyielding as ever. Syazel sighed abruptly in defeat. He was just too good at this.

"Orihime Inoue is a fellow classmate of Rukia Kuchiki and a longtime acquaintance of Kurosaki Ichigo. Her sudden disappearance and injury would only raise their defenses, invoke their anger, and hasten their desires to find the ones responsible. They consider her a 'friend'. They have effectively proven more than once to be reckless when any harm comes to their immediate comrades."

He blinked with surprise at the news, as a lot of things suddenly clicking into place and made sense as his eyes drifted between the still prone form of the girl and Ulquiorra's impassive face. He nearly smiled at his own stupidity. Looks like they'd all been wrong about him…as usual.

"And I suppose that's the true reason for why you spared her then."

"Correct."

"I see…she is quite the trouble maker isn't she? Which leads me to my next question: we are still uncertain as to what she knows and whom she may tell. There is honestly no way of knowing at which point she lost consciousness, based on the assumption that Nnoitra had full intentions of raping and eating her, he may have gotten careless and allowed her to see his face, at which it would be extraordinarily difficult to convince her otherwise. If she did manage to lose consciousness _before _catching a glimpse of his face, then simply returning her to her home would be more than enough to convince her tonight was simply a bad dream. But that's the gamble: how are we to know? What can we assume? What do you think? I'm curious to hear how you plan to resolve this potential problem."

And he was. After all, it was quite the unusual circumstance, to say they were stuck between a rock and a hard space was more of an understatement. If this situation was not quickly resolved, and thoroughly handled, perhaps the tedious process of wiping themselves from existence would have to be repeated, a process that largely fell to his jurisdiction, and one which he was not eagerly anticipating. Although he really had no say in the matter whatsoever.

"Orihime Inoue also resides within this apartment complex. I will personally escort her downstairs to her living quarters."

He raised his head at a slight noise jarring in the deathly silence of the room, and what he saw nearly made him topple over in disbelief. Ulquiorra had gathered the girl into his arms, holding her carefully so that she would not awaken, but painfully awkwardly, holding her body as far away from his as his arms would allow, so that her arms hung limply in the air, her head thrown back, her hair toppling down in a straight line. It was literally _gold._ He was crushed between the desire to laugh hysterically at the blank, look in Ulquiorra's eyes, which instead of being instilled with his usual antipathy, seemed almost as if he were baffled at how one went about holding a woman. If Grimmjow had not been headfirst in the floor boards, he surely would have made sure Ulquiorra knew how ridiculous he looked.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that the image presented was so…_wrong. _Everything about it was wrong, clashed in a way that instead of being endearing, was downright questionable. The warmth of her bronzed skin, from days of practice far into sunset, was ill matched against the deathly pale pallor of his. That long ginger mane and that inky black one. The color in her cheeks and the coldness in his. If he'd ever seen them together before, his eyes would have followed them far into the distance. He tried to think of an analogy for it, but as cliché as it was, Beauty and the Beast was all that came to mind. And it was literally past the point of irony.

But this was their fearless leader! Syazel turned and coughed into his palm, to mask the snort of laughter that broke through his calm façade. And dammit his cell phone battery was far too low to capture this! Not that he would have lived long to tell if it wasn't. Ulquiorra turned to leave, the limp body of the girl still held in mid-air, far away from his chest. Syazel thought about admitting to him that what he was doing was absolutely no way to hold a woman, he made it look like she was some sacrificial maiden about to be thrown from a cliff to be crushed against the rocks of a treacherous sea below, but he decided he valued his life- and his tongue- far too much.

* * *

She hobbled up the stairway, cursing her bad back, her diabetes, indigestion, glaucoma, arthritis, and whatever the hell else it was god had decided to bless her with. Growing old _sucked. _And she was a living testament of that! Bah! If she was still young and pretty, then maybe she wouldn't be worrying so much about young girls travestying around this time of night. She supposed now-a-days, this was what the young un's were doing, staying out this late after sunset, with their damn teen bars and 'clubs' and boys with the funny haircuts and the tight jeans and the earrings on their faces. She scoffed as she arrived on the landing, grumbling about the injustice under her breath. Why in her day they had _real men_! Gentlemen! With manners and devishly handsome good looks, not pansies and pussies with problems and guy liner…

Mrs. Mimi turned the corner onto Orihime's floor mid grumble, and came face to face with a _man_. Or to be more specific, a man carrying one wasted, passed out, drunk as a skunk Orihime (or at least that was how she saw it.)

And the worry, the anger, the pissed off rant she'd saved about troubling youth and date rape and LSD and it's magical wonders flew from her mind, and the Cheshire like smile crept swiftly over her crinkled face. She cackled eerily in the dark, wishing for all the world Orihime was awake to be properly embarrassed by her secret being found out. That deceptive girl! Hiding this from her! Well she'd taught the girl something after all!

She hurriedly hobbled eagerly over to him in the dark, and he (wisely) stood still as she approached. And she said wisely because if he even dared to think he could weasel his way out of some very aggressive questioning, he didn't know the tenacity of an old fart with nothing better to do than get in on her favorite tenant's business.

"Now this is some _juicy_ shit. So you're the one she's been hiding from me eh? I knew it all along I tell you! If it's one thing an old hag like me knows, it's when a girl is giving the nookie to some sharp eyed young man! I used to be the type in my youth you know. Now let me get a good look at you…"

She looked him up and down as she approached. Her eyesight was horrid in the dark, but he had a nice height on him. Not exactly towering mind you, but just tall enough to make the girl feel like a woman in his arms. His posture was perfectly straight, his back a straight line. _'Heh! Girl must know what they say about a man with good posture!'_

She couldn't see his face in the dark per say, but what she could clearly see, was his vivid, emerald eyes, glowing like beacons in the dark. She let out a low whistle. She'd only seen eyes like that a few times along the course of her life, and they had all belonged to men who could charm a woman naked faster than she could blink. She was almost jealous.

But what she did notice, was the strange way he was holding her; for a moment, she thought it was because he was just being a douche, but the more she thought about it, the sexier it seemed. From her height, the strange positioning of it was surely so he could feast those eyes on her body without any obstructions… this way, he could look at her and walk at the same time. The kid was brilliant! And then she noticed what was _really _going on with Orihime. A night wind ghosted down the walkway, lifting the edge of her unbuttoned shirt to reveal the most jarring detail of all, the one that nearly made her face crack and almost gave her a heart attack. Silly girl wasn't wearing a bra!

She laughed, the sound dry and dusty in the dark, as she pounded her chest to stop herself from choking on it, a very real threat when you were literally as old as dirt.

"Well! Looks like she finally put some of those stories to use! You young man, have thoroughly gained my approval! You seem like such the straight laced type, but you're just like my second husband! Pretty eyes, quiet, not very sociable, but wherever he wanted it, whenever he wanted it- by George he got it! He was insatiable! The weariness afterwards! The rug burn! The lawsuits! But my god was it worth it! There's no harm in telling an old woman like me… where did this happen? How did it happen?"

She leaned forward eagerly, giggling like a school girl as her mind raced with far off fantasies and memories she had long since abandoned, but youth! And to think that sweet girl was just like her in spirit! It was refreshing, welcoming, but she missed those green eyes blinking at her as she was lost in a haze of reflection.

"…she was attacked in a back alley."

The older woman whirled on him fiercely, her dark eyes aglow.

"Well, my, my! Must you make it sound so _sexy?_ You animal you! You attacked her in a back alley? My, the darling child is a girl after my own heart, yes she is! I can only imagine! Such a public place, never knowing exactly when someone would walk by, the thrill of being caught, of being discovered- oh the _thrill!_ It makes my heart race just thinking about it! And honey, with a voice like that you could get it anywhere you pleased! It must be nice to be young and adventurous! Well there's been more than enough to sate this old woman for the night, you've gotten my blood pressure up, telling me things like that and so frankly! You're an admirable young man, she's a lucky lucky girl to have you I say! Don't let me stop you, head right on in, I'm sure there's more on your mind than sleep after something like that, eh? You dog, you! And don't you tell her you told me anything, it's going to fun enough for me to keep a straight face when she feeds me that old bull about not having a man! Night to the both of you!"

And she unlocked the door for him, ushering him hurriedly inside, already eagerly imagining what kind of naughty situations they were probably about to get involved in now as she shuffled back downstairs. And didn't that one have a voice on him! Aw it took her back to her fifth husband, a voice like that made her reminisce about blind folds and handcuffs, whips and candle wax. She sighed wistfully into the night.

How good it was to be young!

* * *

_AN:/Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, or anything Disney does. I need my money thank you very much._

_if this chapter seems unusually awesome, it's only because equitablyinjust is SO FRICKEN AWESOME. Seriously. I GROVEL before her superior editing skills. You guys will never know the horror of what this chapter was like before she spruced it up. Love ya girl._

_Anyway, thanks for all my reviews, I think I managed to reply to everyone this time, if I didn't DON'T YOU GO ANYWHERE I'LL GET TO YOU. Well maybe we got some questions answered this chapter? Or maybe I raised more? Also, back alleys are never for the faint of heart. You never know when you might find Nnoitra in one! _

_And also, has anyone ever done a 50 first dates Ulquihime style? That would be** awesome**. I lol'd so much when Orihime was thinking of all the things she wanted to do with Ulquiorra. The samba, waltzing, and I KID YOU NOTI literally choked on my own saliva while writing the rave one. (Mostly because I do in fact have a neon light up pacifier and mega large headphones.) _

_But anyway, I challenge someone to do that. **LIKE RIGHT NOW.** I do believe I lack the comedy gene necessary to pull it off accurately (aw heck I might try it later) but I would love to see someone else take a stab at it! Anyway, see you guys next chapter!  
_


	5. Desecrate Through Reverence

**[A**_l__**iC**_e** I**n_C__h_**a**i_n**s]**_

_**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**_

_**[Desecrate Through Reverence]**_

_**

* * *

**_Orihime roused herself from slumber slowly, leisurely arching her back as she yawned, groaning in slight relief as everything snapped into place. Groggily, she rubbed the sleep from her weary eyes, dragging a cold hand through her ginger colored hair. Her eyes lazed around the room, the clothes tornadodraped across the floor, the back of chairs, the dresser.

She was in bed, her covers pulled up uncharacteristically neatly, her sheets rumpled from sleep. She blinked, a hazy fog loosely binding her mind from fully rousing to consciousness. She tried to remember the frightening run through the alley, the hesitant explanations to her over protective landlord, fumbling with the key on the landing, kicking her shoes off by the door, the fuzzy bath slippers, eating chocolate covered popcorn in front of a Disney movie.

She couldn't.

She tried to remember dragging herself from the couch at 3 in the morning, bleary eyed, stumbling into bed, dreaming of green eyes and cold hands.

Not happening.

She didn't know if she was frightened. That last night had been a black one, one that even the light of her subconscious couldn't illuminate. She didn't really know if she should be anxious or rattled, but with all her might she tried to recall the inevitable, running through the alley, squealing like a little piggy all the way home - but she _couldn't._Weird.

Orihime frowned, rubbing firmly on her temples like she'd seen Tatsuki do when she was in class and had forgotten to study the night before. But unlike when Tatsuki did it, no last minute snapshots of yesterday (or notebook pages in Tatsuki's case) came to mind. She had never been the type to really be wary of blackouts, and since she wasn't some meth-addicted drug junkie, she was sure at least she hadn't been running naked and covered in peanut butter through back alleys pumped up on liquid crack and high as a kite. She wasn't a drinker, so she knew at least that she hadn't been partying off her rocker in somebody's basement.

So… what had she been doing? Running home from school, cutting through the alley… and then?

Her hand pried at the covers, hastily throwing them back and off of her body. Her patterned pajama shorts and tank met her roving eyes. It wasn't that big of a deal, honestly. She'd made it home alive, her bag was on the floor by her bed (so she hadn't been mugged) and it felt like she still had both of her kidneys, so there were no worries there. Sighing abruptly, she hurled herself out of bed, grinning as she made a perfect landing on top of her fuzzy bedroom slippers. Bowing briefly to the invisible crowd and pausing to blow kisses, she slid them on, shuffling leisurely to her bathroom.

She stared into her bathroom mirror, wincing briefly at the bags underneath her eyes and the bird's nest on top of her head. She might as well call Tweety and tell him she had space for rent! Grimacing, she hurriedly ran a hand through it, wincing as it snagged. Ugh! She had to fix this pronto, she couldn't let _him_ see her looking like some grocery cart pushing hobo who lived under bridges-

Him.

For a moment, she almost seriously considered slamming her head into the bathroom mirror repeatedly, but just managed to withhold the urge. Yesterday _really happened. _It hadn't been some hazy delusion imagined during a time of extreme boredom in her economics class, it _actually factually for sure happened._At the back room of the nurse's there. Right there in that room, without thinking twice, without holding back, she'd gotten up, ran across that room and…

She nearly stumbled into bath tub recalling the way those cold lips had felt against hers. She hurried to rip her eyes away from the mirror, not really wanting to see the lovesick look in her eyes, already feeling the warmth in her cheeks. She shook her head hastily, even though the feeling of that cold beneath her fingertips didn't dissipate. And she could still remember that moment, that sickeningly satisfying moment, when for one instant, her insides had surely liquefied into goo as her body had melded with his. She didn't need a dime store romance novel with some overly muscled man wearing extensions on the front to tell her how that_ felt. _ She didn't need a mother or a father to sit her down and give her 'the talk' to let her know that surely such a thing wasn't socially accepted, much less approved of. It probably wouldn't do her any good anyway.

Orihime might've been soft hearted and kind, okay yeah, maybe sometimes she got overly excited about trivial things, and even she could admit her overly active imagination and innocent forwardness were probably going to be the death of her one of these days. But there was one easily overlooked thing about her - she was as stubborn as a donkey when it came to certain things. And those things were her crazy food concoctions, her friends, her late night movie marathons, her secret stuffed animal collection, and her feelings for a particularly evasive green eyed, black haired dragon.

Not for the first time, and surely not the last, she stared intensely into the porcelain bowl of the sink and thought harder than she ever had before.

She was almost clueless when it came to love. She knew about 'female pheromones' and 'womanly wiles' but she'd be darned if she knew how to use either one of them. She'd seen girls at school put them to work, arch the back, thrust the chest forward, pout the lips - but somehow imagining herself coming at _him_ like _that _horrified her to death. She could just see him now! Those green eyes wouldn't look at her twice, and she'd be trash before she even had time to start batting her eyelashes.

This 'wooing' stuff was harder than she thought.

She nearly groaned aloud in frustration, resisting the urge to go fight her bed pillows. How could you move someone immovable? How did you make someone feel who claimed he couldn't? How did you make someone love you when he was so disinterested? How, how, how, how, how?

She had to remind herself that if she'd just been a good girl and gone with Plan B, if she'd just held tight to that strawberry from her youth, if she'd just went back to that moonlit night when she thought she'd known what love was- then this right now would not have been happening. The cute orange haired kids (instead of the mutant dragon human hybrids), the cute little house (instead of the evil lair on a mountain peak) fighting her way through Sunday shopping crowds (instead of miasma and fire). A picture perfect life if there ever had been one.

She bit her lip, and not for the first time, wondered why she preferred the road less traveled. Maybe if his back hadn't been so straight. Maybe if his eyes hadn't been so cold. Maybe if his frown didn't seem so permanent. Maybe if he smiled, made merry, been open-; instead of that impassive face, that frigid demeanor, the rare unexpected moments of speech – scathing with the biting edge of truth. , maybe, maybe.

…maybe she was just sick in the head. It was perfectly plausible, all things considered. How many times had Tatsuki told her so? She'd lost count ages ago. Maybe she was the one messed up, for wanting someone so desperately, for wanting someone so much her chest ached and her blood sang at the thought of him, for wanting someone so much she was willing to do anything, _everything_, if only to get those eyes to look at her with anything but disinterest.

She didn't want to see him. She hoped she did. She didn't know what to say to him. She considered saying the unsayable. She was going to run like hell when he came down the hall. She was going to run like hell right into his arms. This entire situation in which she now found herself was really quite _impossible. _Thinking about this so fiercely wasn't going to resolve it any faster, or change the fact that even if he made every possible attempt to avoid her, her Ulqui-radar would zone in on him as long as he was anywhere within a five mile radius.

Her head spun with speculations, with ideas. She was going to be late if she kept pondering the imponderable and seriously considered doing the undoable. It was better to be busy, better to be rushed- _hurry hurry__,__Orihime__,__ don't want to be late!-__) _instead of fretting and worrying. She hastily pulled the tank over her head, looking up briefly to grin at her reflection in the mirror…

…and the smile froze on her face as grey eyes feasted on the sight of the spotted bruises marring the pale flesh of her chest. Time caught up with her, those forgotten blurred images of some far off night roaring to the surface.

_Those spindly roving hands, a putrid scent rank with what she imagined hell smelled like, the black pits of those eyes bursting with madness, her own horrified visage reflected in their depths. The sickening heat of that tongue burning a trail down the column of her neck, the iron strength holding her hostage, the muffled sobs, the grinning moon, the haunting voice, the dark laughter._

She leaned forward and vomited unmercifully into the sink.

* * *

Growling under her breath, she tapped her feet impatiently, resisting the urge to ram her fist into the nearest living thing, her eyes boring holes into the empty chair across the room.

Orihime hadn't come to school.

By all appearances, taking in at a glance the vicious snarl that seemed permanently etched into the lines of her face, the barely contained rage wafting from her small body in such waves that it could have set the room ablaze, the way she ground her palms together and clenched her teeth, you would have thought her murderously angry. Tatsuki was anything but. She was instead, worried. When it came to Orihime, it seemed worrying was all she did. She worried if Orihime made it home safely, worried if she was being felt up on the bus by some old pervert, worried if she was being harassed by some faceless asshole, worried if she'd wandered somewhere strange and was being held against her will. She thought that perhaps when they all made it to college, she would finally be able to loosen the death grip her consciousness always seemed to have on Orihime's safety. But instead, it had only gone into hyper drive.

She tried to tell herself that it was only because she was such a damn good friend, that she only had Orihime's best wishes at heart, because she had never loved anyone as fiercely as she did that grey eyed girl with the kind smile. Something could be said for history, when she had been the rough, wild hearted girl whom none other would call friend, and Orihime had been the social butterfly who had first reached a hand out to her. Something could be said for history, especially when she'd been the one fighting off the perverts, the sickos, the assholes that had harassed her friend insistently since she'd hit puberty.

She'd liked to believe that using those fists clutched so insistently beneath her chin, she had denied rapists, stalkers, pedophiles and who knew what the hell else. After all the bloody knuckles, the scratches, the band aids and Neosporin, the bruised knees and broken bones, maybe she just felt obligated. It began to take on an everyday monotony that she didn't seem to mind, a normalcy that she welcomed.

After all, who else knew the confines of that ginger haired girl so well? Who else knew that she was a closest romantic, a semi-realistic air head, an avid day dreamer and that half of the nonsense she spouted was more than just ponies and rainbows? She had to force herself sometimes, to remember that Orihime wasn't that precious little girl anymore that she had loved so wholeheartedly, missing her two front teeth with that warmth in her cheeks and that wide smile on her face. She had to force herself to remember that the little girl from days gone by was a big kid now, hell they were legally considered _adults_ now! And she still wanted to tuck the stray hairs behind her ears, still wanted to fix her collar, still wanted to straighten her wrinkled sleeves and show her how to properly tuck her shirts.

And it seemed like she had all the time in the world then to watch over that flower until it bloomed, to water it and tend to it, to put it in the sun where it could grow and live-, and a part of her hated that she'd missed it when it bloomed, that somehow despite her constant care…

She knew a portion of her anger was simply because she didn't know when the change had begun. And a part of her was mad at herself for not noticing when it had. She remembered those late night conversations, that breathless voice telling her vividly, in a random otherworldly way that would have been nonsense to anyone else but was always clear to her, that she was in love.

Tatsuki hadn't let it bother her, not even for a moment.

Orihime was young and impressionable. She'd expected a knight in shining armor to come swoop her off of her feet any day now, and Tatsuki's primary concern had been that it had happened so _soon. _A moonlit confession? Orihime had probably rambled incessantly about anything and everything. That orange haired prince knew her, but he didn't necessarily speak her language. It had probably been nothing but gibberish to him. He was no one to be bothered with. She'd known Ichigo for a long time, much longer than Orihime, and him being such a good natured asshole she was sure his type was beyond doe eyed girls with big hearts and even bigger dreams.

So she hadn't batted an eye really. She'd been properly amused at Orihime's ramblings, been properly enthusiastic even though she was sure pigs would fly before that self righteous idiot would begin to love her back. But suddenly- and she didn't know when it happened –Orihime had changed. And she couldn't pinpoint when it started or how it even began.

All she knew was that suddenly-Orihime didn't seem like Orihime anymore.

It was slight, simple things, her deciding to move into another apartment instead of living on campus. The way she would suddenly dive and duck through hallways, peering anxiously around corners when she was sure no one was watching. The way her eyes would sometimes zero in on someone in the crowd, some nameless being that Tatsuki could never quite find. She did a lot of sighing under her breath these days, her eyes often zoned in onto the sky through classroom windows, her mind wandering god knew where. If you asked her, she would smile and reply as usual without a care in the world. But it was there, even though she thought no one noticed, but she did.

She could see that strange something in the depths of those grey orbs, a strange something that could have belonged to anyone else but Orihime. And she wasn't a friggen psychologist, she couldn't read minds or foretell the future, but if she hadn't known any better… she would think Orihime was sick. The stupidest kind of sick there was. The most improbable, unrealistic garbage plague that had swept through girls like some incurable disease in her high school days. The kind of sick that made her want to turn her head and retch into the nearest garbage can.

Lovesick.

But thinking about the undeserving asshole who occupied so much of Orihime's thoughts was pissing her off.

Yesterday, accidentally, Orihime had let slip a few things that apparently had been happening in her free time. She had been stalking someone? Well no shit, Orihime was anything but subtle when she went into ninja mode. But that other stuff? If she'd never thought she'd have to worry about her friend's chastity and innocence, _she had better fucking start._ Going into some random guy's house? Oh and let's not forget the part where she was _chained to his fucking ceiling. _ What kind of sick, sick bastard? What kind of closet pervert!

She'd wanted to believe the mystery man had been Ichigo after all, right up until the end.

But that was only a portion of why she felt so stupid, so angry, so annoyed. Deep down in the heart of her, she'd never really believed Orihime would ever take anyone seriously, despite how much she had professed to 'love' Ichigo. She had never really worried, because Orihime's naiveté and air headedness was both a blessing and a curse. She figured they would be together for awhile yet, men might have admired her body but if they couldn't fully comprehend her strangeness then Tatsuki could do her duty and properly scare them off.

Tatsuki had always told herself she'd be able to weed out the bad guys, that she would be able to make sure Orihime wound up happy and loved in the end by someone who would worship her in a way she herself never could.

But she didn't know how to handle this.

The nameless being that Orihime was so fixated with, to the point where she would even do all of those things for… Tatsuki didn't know who he was, what manner of man he was. Orihime was so innocent, so good natured, easily deluded and deceived. And when she loved, if nothing else, it was always heartfelt and pure. To think that love had been directed to a guy like Ichigo hadn't been that difficult to accept. But to think of that sweet love being directed to anyone who was not worthy, to anyone who had never known the pain of being her friend, of the bloody knuckles and band aids, her bizarre food and ramblings. _That _was what was really pushing her to the boiling point.

Orihime had never been one for secrets or deceit. She couldn't hold water, much less something of such vital significance.

But yesterday…for the first time in a long time, Orihime hadn't been that grinning girl she'd always known. She'd been someone else. With her guarded words and downcast eyes, looking like the kicked puppy on the curb. She hadn't said any names, hadn't even said anything else.

But when Tatsuki stormed off yesterday, her inner world in turmoil at this new information, she did indeed have business to handle. She was going to find out who this bastard was, come hell or high water, whichever came first. And she was going to make him wish Orihime had never liked him. Because even now, years later, she was the one who hadn't changed. She was the one who didn't want Orihime to change. Because it was still stupid and the world was still unfair, despite the fact that she'd go to war for that ginger haired girl, catch a bullet, leap a building, flip a car, whatever she had to do.

Despite the fact that she had been the one who had loved her first.

* * *

"What should we do?"

"Nothing. This is not something we can handle. That brief display was as good a reading on their location as I could get. Even if they are in this area, if they've remained hidden in this world for such a long period of time, they probably change hunting grounds periodically. However, the longer they stay, the faster their powers will diminish without the proper level of soul quality. To put it into perspective, mortal souls are nowhere near as powerful and sustaining as hollow ones. Why they continue to stay here I cannot begin to understand, but as long as they do they will not be anywhere near as powerful as their original forms were. However, even with that slight handicap, they are still a hundred times more powerful than you."

"Don't give me that shit! You saw the bodies didn't you? _Didn't you? _How the hell can you expect me to just be satisfied with that? We both know they're out there, so why the hell can't we hunt the bastards down? If we all work together, it shouldn't be a problem!"

"Time has taught you nothing, you idiot! We're in a delicate situation with Soul Society as it is, and you want to bring even more negativity towards us? We should wait to receive further orders, instead of rushing in blindly. Be patient. This is the way things are. It hasn't hit you close to home yet."

"That's bullshit! Are you still going to spout that crap when it does?"

"Hpmh. If it does…then I won't hold you back anymore. But until then, Ichigo. Wait until then."

* * *

"Orihime Inoue, a doctor is free to see you now."

She gulped audibly under her breath, sucking in air with ragged intakes as she entered the imposing office. She didn't really have anything against hospitals, especially not this one in particular, but the cold cleanliness of the room made her feel remarkably awkward. She hesitated to even sit on the raised platform that served as the bed, wrinkling her nose at that stupid white crinkly paper they always laid down on these things. It smelled like medicine and mothballs, dish detergent and bleach. It was such a strange assortment of smells, that if she could have, it would have been nice to be able to take her nose off for a moment. The first time someone had 'taken her nose' she could remember the horrified screams that had rushed, unabated from her body. It had been such a simple thing; he hadn't _really _taken her nose but he might as well have for all the good it did her! It had taken a good thorough shake to thoroughly convince her that her nose was in fact still there. She wiggled it briefly; one could never be too sure sometimes.

Swinging her legs, and playing with her fingers in her lap, she let her eyes run around the clean white lines of the spotless floor and ceiling. She wondered what everyone else was doing right now. Tatsuki was surely going to kill her at the next given opportunity, considering how generally upset she had seemed after yesterday. The wild haired girl had never been one for subtle, meditative anger, being far more prone to explosive rages that could scorch anyone within her vicinity. But somehow, the way the girl had stormed off grumbling, had left a startling deep impression on her that she wouldn't soon forget.

Somehow, someway…she felt like she'd betrayed her.

But how? What was such a small thing, such a trivial thing when it came to lifelong friends? Orihime knew very well that she had a tendency to underestimate the severity of her problems, and even though it hadn't seemed so awful to her, somehow her secret had struck Tatsuki as nothing short of a cruel blow. And maybe that's what it had been. Wasn't that what she deserved, rightfully deserved, for being so selfish? What had ever led her to think she could truly keep this one thing, this love, all to herself? She wondered if it was wrong, if it was betrayal, deceit, treachery…to, if only for a moment, wish that she could keep this feeling forever. She didn't _want_ to share it. And maybe she didn't want to share it because she knew with a swift bitterness, that this love would be the one and only thing none of them would understand. She didn't think it was wrong, she didn't want to believe _that _could be anything but right, but maybe for them…it was only…the foolish ramblings of a trifling girl.

"Mrs.?"

Immediately she snapped to attention, shaking the tension from her palms, hastily throwing away the intense stare for a more inviting one as she hurriedly tucked her head in respect, grinning good naturedly.

"Yes! Hello doctor, pleased to meet you! My name is Orihime, and I just have a few con-"

She looked up, and when the deep amber of those narrowed eyes met hers from behind those wired frames, she froze. The vivid, altogether unforgettable, pink tint to the hair, smoothly combed back now. Unabashedly, her wide eyes stared into the impassiveness of his, and he didn't need to be a mind reader to see the message in their depths. _'Don't I know who you are?'_ There was a moment of brief, intense silence as the confusion and silent questions murmuring within the depths of her eyes only grew.

If he'd believed in fate like humans did, as stupid an idea as that was, then surely there was no better example at this. He smiled warmly at her face, still blatantly open, and honest. If that smile could have been anything else, it would have surely been bitter with the irony of this. He didn't need to read charts, skim notes to know what it was she came here to ask. And she didn't need to say anything, didn't need to do anymore than this, for the memories to slowly return of their own accord. It was a dangerous line this mortal tread, made ultimately more precarious because she still had no idea how close to the edge she clumsily balanced. He could have thrown his head back and laughed, wild uncontrollable laughter that he knew very well would have sent her scurrying from the room. This girl! This stupid little girl! And then the desire was strong and growing stronger, to smile at her with that barely contained madness in the depth of his eyes, because the hilarity of this was mind boggling. So this was it then! This was the 'dreaded hand of fate' mortals whispered warily of under their breath that marked the unfortunate ones, the ones doomed to suffer. Then how fate must despise her! Not once, not twice, but thrice now! Thrice and still, _still!_ She wouldn't have been able to spot the monster in her midst even if he had been two headed with wings!

"Greetings, Mrs. Orihime. I am Dr. Granz."

She reeled back at the name, and he could feel her resolve wavering, could sense the doubt, read it in the hesitant glances she rose to meet his. For a moment she blinked at him carefully, and then stretched out her hand to meet his. He met her halfway, clasping her hand in his and shaking firmly. Her hand was small, and altogether warm, and he was almost surprised he had even noticed that much, considering the usual shiver of revulsion and brief excitement whenever he shook the hands of his patients.

But then again, by the time they reached him, if they didn't have a foot in the grave, he made sure they did by the time they left. The almost tangible nature of her health and happiness instead made him hastily withdraw. If he could have washed his hands of her, he would have. With those wide grey eyes tinged with that wavering innocence, the slightness of her form, the rounded curve to her limbs. And ah- the warmth of her skin. He could easily imagine her split in two, pinned to a countertop, pried open like a perfect specimen just waiting to be studied and documented. The madness could creep upon him so steadily sometimes, it could take him by surprise.

He had to be careful with her. Nnoitra easily succumbed to this. He was nowhere near foolish enough to do the same.

He stepped back, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms, smiling at her in what he hoped to be a comforting manner. It was a hard act to pull off considering his nature, but he had adapted surprisingly well. Many a man, woman and child had been lulled into a false sense of security by the honey in that smile. He expected no less from her. She was only a mortal, a little fool with a marvelous running streak of luck. But an idiot's good fortune could only last so long. He wondered if Zonmari would ever get his wish. It would be quite the interesting bet, surely one worth bringing forward. And at this rate, she would be dead within the week.

"Well Mrs. Orihime? How can I help you today?"

The girl lowered her gaze immediately, letting it fall to the hands in her lap with a sudden shyness, the simplicity of the action almost sickening. For a brief moment, he fiercely regretted the fact that Nnoitra had not been successful in raping her senseless. But that was only the tentative murmur of madness, and was merely halfway seriously considered before the thought was easily discarded.

He could almost taste her discomfort, as she ran her tongue over her lips and the heat colored her face. He not only could almost taste it, he reveled in it. Surely one like her, living a life so movie perfect, so idolized and adored, was not used to such feelings of discomfort. When one was always associated with perfection, it was only natural to be wary of the slightest chance of being tainted with filth. And Nnoitra was lower than that, nothing but scum, a parasite.

"I um….….think that I…that last night I was..um…r-r-r" she fumbled almost adorably over the words, if he was one to be moved by such things. As it was however…

"Raped? De-virginized? Deflowered? Lost your innocence, popped your cherry - isn't that how the kids are saying it these days?"

And he honestly could have laughed in her face then, seeing how quickly her entire face darkened from the heat of her embarrassment. He looked at her; and she didn't even dare to meet his eyes! Maybe this had been it then, maybe this had been what had struck Grimmjow so. It was quite rare to find a mortal so tortuously fun to tease. And she was biting her lip as if she wished she was anywhere but here, her hands latched onto the fabric of her jeans as if she was just about to tear twin holes in them. Compared to the other loose women that had said the same words in his presence, it was almost refreshing. The grey orbs rose to meet his, and miraculously, the fear of the truth was not in them, but a sudden pressing curiosity. The absurdity left her lips so quickly, even she seemed stunned.

"….are you a witch?" He could have laughed.

"No. I'm just a doctor." And a soul eating monster spawn straight out of hell. "Trust me Mrs. Inoue, I've been at this for quite a while, I know the signs."

"So…was I?" The anxiety was back in her posture, the tremble in her didn't meet his eyes. For a brief moment one more, he regretted that she had not been. Grimmjow be damned. If she were dead and broken, he would not have to clean up behind such idiots.

"Nope! You're a lucky girl Mrs. Inoue! If you had been, you would have displayed an entirely different array of symptoms. It says here that you can only recall flashes of detail, the fact that it only goes to a certain point is more than proof enough that either at this point, whether you realize it or not, you must have either escaped or been rescued. However the fact that you made it safe and sound to your own home is more than proof enough. You must understand, sometimes when you…how do you say…"

"Fall into the haze?" Such a thing seemed familiar to her, by how easily she could put the feeling into her own words.

"Alright…well, when you 'fall into the haze' to a certain point, even though your mind may seem temporarily inactive, you instinctively realize that your body is in danger, and that your present self is not effectively emotional stable enough to protect yourself. I suppose you could liken it to suddenly bringing forward an alternate persona that is way more equipped to handle the situation. In cases where a patient is under extreme mental duress, such things can happen. Rare, but likely. Besides, if you had been, I assure you that you would be in a staggeringly enormous amount of pain. I dare say you wouldn't have even been able to make it here." Considering Nnoitra, anyway. Half of what he'd just told her might have very well have been the blackest of lies, but she was simple enough. Her face was so eager, so open, she would have accepted anything.

"However… tell me what you do remember- even though you don't remember much, the slightest thing could help me help you… you understand, of course?"

His smile was sickeningly sweet as she nodded hastily, and told him.

* * *

Damn kids, making all that damn noise all the damn time! If she'd been at least seven years younger, without this damn back problem, she'd roll up there and fuck them all over! Blasting their so-called 'techno' this fucking early in the afternoon! Why the hell weren't they at school? And what kind of fucking school is missing four kids- the skinny jean wearing, guyliner kind- and is just like 'fuck it, let's leave them out in the community to harass the elderly?'

Her gnarled hand was flipping violently through the phonebook- _where the fuck was the number for that no good truancy officer?-_when the bell over the door rung quietly, but in her hyper-pissed old lady state, she lifted her head wearily, fire in her eyes. And by fire, she meant unfiltered _rage. _She'd missed her afternoon shows, her mid-morning nap, her midday bath soak, all because she had a few shithead tenants who didn't know how to _shut the fuck up. _

"Yeah, what the hell do you want?"

And they said her medication was going to keep her mellowed out all the damn time? As soon as she finished ass kicking via telephone, the very first thing she was going to do would be to drive her happy old ass down to the pharmacy and-

"Mrs. Mimi?"

She looked up again, her vision focusing immediately on that ginger hair and sweet face, the big grey orbs watery and wounded. She gaped at her favorite tenant, hurrying to soothe the younger girl before she could begin to feel offended, rambling sheepishly, while cursing to immediate death all of the fifteen year olds within the vicinity. Who just happened to live on the second floor.

"Oh I'm sorry darling! Those damn kids on the second floor are just being worse than usual and you know how I get when I miss my shows, and that's _exactly _what hap-"

"."

The firmness in that normally cheerful voice nearly stunned her into silence. She met the girl's eyes hastily- at first glance, nothing about her seemed amiss- her hair was properly combed and tucked, she looked adorable as usual, with those perfectly round, pinch-able cheeks. But then her sharp eyes lighted on the loose shoulders- no back pack. Her eyes strove downwards,the girl'shands were clinched into fists, but there was no satchel grasped in her palms. Shocked, she realized the young girl had not been to school yet. Orihime _never _missed a day of school…usually anyway.

But what struck her the most deeply, was when her eyes finally lighted on Orihime's face. Before, she'd thought those watery eyes had been so because she had unknowingly offended the girl. However, what she saw in them now was something else entirely. Her lips were set, but quivering with something that was not fear, and in the depths of those orbs- what was there? Mimi- as she called herself- had lived many years, and met many women. But what she saw in those eyes was something she hadn't seen in a very long time. If she had the words to describe it, she would have called it…

"Mrs. Mimi." The words came out suddenly, spurring her back to reality, to the television blaring in the back room, the fan swirling overhead, causing a gentle breeze to toy with the ginger colored strands of Orihime's hair.

"Something happened to me last night, and if you will- I need your help remembering just what."

And the smile was on her face before the girl was even done, the cackle high and loud and rasping in her throat as she tossed her head back and laughed. She laughed until her sides hurt, and Orihime, obviously miffed at such an unexpected reaction, flicked her on the forehead to help her focus. But the tears of mirth blinded her, and she chuckled again, knowing that Orihime was going to think her quite strange, and yet somehow the thought thrilled her. Strange, was she? Just some crazy old cat lady who ran a nursery home for big babies! And yet…this girl right here… standing right here! Orihime's slight arms were crossed, and even though she was still far too young and inexperienced to know how to burn a man's ego to dust with a glance, she was doing her damnedest to look as fierce as she knew how.

"Mrs. Mimi this is serious!"

She waved off the cry of complaint, still giggling under her breath as she murmured the young girl to come closer. She did so immediately, quickly- the poor thing really couldn't remember! So that's how it had been eh? She herself (in her youth) had gotten her share of quote-unquote- "destructonookie"- but hers had always been the room smashing kind, not exactly the memory erasing kind. But after only one night? She nearly laughed aloud again, as she told the girl about the shadowy figure that had held her in the night.

Orihime sucked in a breath quietly, perhaps even she was amazed. It was to be expected after all, the older woman noted with a smothered chuckle. The poor girl was young yet. She still had a ways to go.

* * *

She was waiting for him when he got back.

She knew very well that this was stupid, foolish, idiotic all of the above. Maybe he would make good on his promise this time. Maybe he would ignore her, openly disregard her, shun her, reject her. There didn't seem to be any possible way he could make her feel any lower than with that brand of quiet hatred, than in that brief moment when she had been nothing but trash to him. It seemed almost improbable to her, in this moment, that he could make her feel lower than she had in that moment, crying on her knees in that alley. She tried to tell herself to be strong, steadfast, to unleash her inner Tatsuki even, rage and storm and not take no for an answer! Maybe she could be Super Orihime, or even an Amazon Queen, a Warrior! Surely at such crucial moments, their hearts didn't pound like hers did, their throats weren't bone dry like hers was, and surely their hands and knees didn't tremble.

They were strong willed, unbreakable, invulnerable! Nothing could tear them down, they could not be mortally wounded with mere words and scathing remarks, they could not be deterred by cold eyes and open disinterest. They knew what they wanted and they got it, knew what they desired and they sought it, knew what must be said and then said it.

And in the deathly silence of the room, she heard the key being turned in the lock.

She nearly screamed, a mix of frustration, anticipation, fear, eagerness, desire, stupidity. If she could have ran through brick walls, like a cartoon character, than surely she would have ran through his, leaving behind nothing but the imprint of her flailing body as she burst straight through all the apartments on the floor. She could have even shot up through the ceiling, straight to the moon, holding on to the crescent for dear life, heart pounding and teeth chattering away. Right here, right now in this very moment, her heart was going to mercifully explode in her chest and she would drop dead as a door nail on his floor. She resisted the urge to wring her hands until they were bone white from the effort, resisted the urge to gnaw her lips and nails to ragged shreds, pull her hair until she was bald, pace ruts into the floor…

And the door slowly opened.

And right then, right there, right there in that moment she shot up so quick from the couch her head spun and it took every ounce of will power she had in her frame to force herself to sit back down. To force herself to not get up and run to him, to run to him and kiss him and hug him and love him and to not curse him and beat him and hate him. She could easily imagine herself, throwing her body at his feet, groveling and begging and… she sat on her hands to stop them from pulling the stuffing out of the couch at the thought of latching onto him and never letting go. The room spun and spun because _stupid_ she'd forgotten how to even _breathe_ and the room was all swirls and white and him and- and he was in the room.

He was in the room.

The pressure of the room surely dipped, and she could feel the cold, the ice cold of winter welcoming to the burning blood in her veins as those cold eyes slowly took her in. Those eyes strode over her as if she had merely been a stain on his couch, merely been a hole in the wall, a spot on the floor. And she ground her lips together to halt the vomiting flow of words itching to burst out of her, ground her palms to dust beneath her to cease the tingling in her fingertips. And there it was again, that strange, bizarre, tangible _something_ hovering between them, as her eyes zeroed in on his. She didn't blink, didn't look away- she'd be darned if in that moment she _could. _She felt rooted to this very spot, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head, pinned by that frigid gaze, struck deaf, dumb and stupid. Within the confines of this charged bubble of theirs, time was of no consequence. She stared at him until her eyes began to water, until they brimmed and spilled over, hot leaden tears drifting down her cheeks.

He had not moved until then, had been as still as death as their eyes had clashed in that endless moment. But at the appearance of those sudden tears, he seemed to rouse himself from the depths of whatever it was that had occupied him, and he strode past her, and in that horrible moment she knew whatever ground she had gained had briefly been lost.

"Leave,Onna."

Reality awoke before her mind did, slapping her out of that stupor only he could incite. Hastily she leaped up from the couch, nearly stumbling over her own two feet, feeling the horrified look on her face as she fiercely rubbed at her eyes with her shirt sleeves. He was disgusted by weakness. And tears surely counted, no matter how unbidden and uncalled for, to him they would only be further evidence stacked against her, just another reason to add to his mile long list of reasons for why she was stupid for pursuing this, for pursuing him.

She ground her hands into fists, feeling the curved outlines of her nails biting viciously into her palms. For a moment, she nearly hurled herself at him, nearly tackled him to the floor, turn him over, turn him around, if only he would look at her again!

"_No!_ That's not what I came to do! I-"

"Onna." And there was an unusual chill to his voice, a barely contained threat underlining his words, that made a shiver race up and down the length of her spine. He didn't like to repeat himself.

Stumbling, she pulled back, her trembling lips pressed into an unmercifully straight line to stop the anxiety from allowing her to gnaw them to shreds. She sucked in a shallow breath and closed her eyes briefly. She didn't want to see his face when she took the plunge and said the words.

"…you saved me."

She hardly dared to breathe and it was best to handle him when she was drifting, when she thought of nonsensical things like what she wanted for lunch and what everyone else was doing… by now surely they were all making merry, it was Thursday, Karaoke Thursday right? After classes they were probably in the arcade, renting out a room, belting out cracked high notes and listening to each other's tone deaf attempts at musical talent.

"Nonsense."

And he couldn't let her have a moment, couldn't let her drift and stay in the haze not even for a moment. Of course, why would he? He wasn't one to comfort her, to make her feel safe and protected and… he was just who he was, this cold, hard hearted being who no doubt thought less than nothing of her so called love. It was a struggle to remind herself of yesterday, of her bravery, her boldness and that fleeting moment of triumph when she'd known he'd been aware of her to some degree. It was easier to remember that other feeling, that sweet tenderness she'd felt for him in that moment when she'd wound her arms around him. Like hugging an ice cube, a snowman, and all she wanted to do was watch him melt, and melt with him, together into a puddle of liquid goop. She felt some of her tension fade away, the tremble in those hands no longer from anxiety and frustration, but once more warm at the thought of holding him.

She couldn't be afraid of him. Yes, maybe he was the bad guy, the super villain in disguise, the big bad wolf, the dragon… but he could only huff and puff for so long. She might not have been confident in much, but she was confident in this. She wouldn't give up. One step at a time, she'd conquer him, show him, prove it to him. Her feelings weren't so trivial, so false, so empty.

She breathed in slowly, trying to calm herself, working her way up to the moment where she hesitantly opened her eyes, meeting the emptiness in those emerald depths through her lashes.

"I know that you were the one who took me home last night. And I remember… I mean there's still… I still have the marks. Last night, something… bad could have happened. And I think it was because of you that nothing did. "

There was no sudden movement, no intake of breath, not the slightest blink or twitch. Those broad shoulders still loose just so, those delicate hands still shoved into the depths of his pockets. He stared at her without the slightest qualm in his expression, as if this was all well and good and just like he'd expected, as if this tense conversation was all going according to his plan, marking off some mental checklist, staring at her as if were daring her to go off script. Those eyes told her they knew what she thought, knew what she believed, knew that her imagination was stretched to the limit, knew that some part of her had placed such hope in this that she would no doubt die if told otherwise. Her heart lurched to a stuttering halt. Because he was looking at her as if he wanted to break her.

"Do not be so presumptuous."

And there it was again- and if she listened carefully, she could hear the sound of her precious dream fantasy of dragons in shining armor crumbling to ash around her.

"Do not delude yourself with such ill formulated ideals. If you wish to thank anyone, it should be Grimmjow. He was the one who 'saved' you. I merely carried you to your quarters. That is all. It would be nothing short of foolishness to invest anything more in so simple an action."

Crumbling to ash, dust on the wind, and he ground the fleeting remains beneath his heel so there would be no chance of their resurrection, of their ever being reborn. What were they anyway? Her dreams, her ideals?Nothing to him. It was stupid to think she still hadn't learned that by now. How much more could she take before he shattered her completely? How much more?

She couldn't look away. Her vision wavered, and she barely managed to register the fact that her eyes were brimming once again with those pathetic tears he despised. She didn't brush them away this time, she wouldn't, couldn't cry, but she wanted him to see them. She felt remarkably empty, as if she'd been a glass full, now poured outwards onto a dry, parched land. She wondered if one day, that famine filled land would ever be covered in a field of flowers. She wondered if it would forever be this way, dry, dark, desolate. She wondered if she was stupid for wanting to still believe, even after all this.

"Thank you."

And she noticed it, because if there was nothing she could do to escape his notice, then there was nothing he could to escape hers. The words came to mind so simply, so easily, like a naturally drawn breath. And she knew, instinctively, that he wouldn't turn away again, not this time. And she saw it on his face, saw it in his eyes, the way those emerald eyes seemed to open briefly to take in all of her at once. She'd derailed him for a moment, thrown him off course, and just like yesterday she felt a brief triumph. As if she'd snatched his carefully cultivated lists of responses and reactions, and ripped it to shreds. It couldn't have been anyone else but him, no one else but her. This was close as she would ever get to surprising him. And that was enough.

If she had blinked, she would have missed it, how smoothly his eyes transitioned back to that liquid cold.

"Onna, I believe you misunderstood me."

"No." she stated quickly, a surprising firmness etched into the calm of her voice. He couldn't hurt her anymore. "You misunderstood _me._"

And it was back, the boldness, the momentary triumph singing in her veins. He wasn't so immovable, so unreachable, so bleak, so desolate, so cold. She could do it, could do it, she had the power to push him back, even though he could break her as easily as a porcelain doll. And as easily as she realized that he could break her down to less than nothing with just the power of words, she knew that she could push him to the point of _feeling._ And that was enough. Yesterday she'd done it, for one brief unforgettable moment, she thought she could have made him remember, could have made him understand.

She knew that what she was considering doing could very well be the death of her. But she was prepared, she wasn't afraid, not anymore. She wondered if she imagined the suddenly wary gleam in his eyes. For one brief maddening moment, she smiled blindingly wide into his face. Impossibly, he blinked. It was all she needed.

She ran past him as quick as she knew how, darting past him down the hall. She knew which door to push. She clambered down those steps into that pit of blackness, and this time the fear couldn't so much as touch her. She was scorching, she was burning, she was ablaze! She didn't need light, she was glowing all her own. She'd left the basement door open. It was merely a moment later that his shadow blocked the light, and she could clearly see his outline, the glimmer of those eyes against the light.

"Onna."

Too late.

She reached upward, satisfied with the metallic clink, the suddenly familiar feel of the cool metal cuff against the warmth of her flesh. The key was still jammed into the lock of the metal cuffs; he hadn't bothered to remove it, not since that time when he had freed her from her accidental bondage. But then, it had been nothing but her innocent fumbling that had led her to being strung up in his basement. But now? She clicked the lock into place, hastily pulling the key into her palm. And her eyes were ablaze with a fire he'd never seen, her back straight and her grin no longer sweet, but devilishly confident. And there was no fear of him, no anxiety, nothing but that fire in her veins. All she needed was an S on her chest to be super woman, super Orihime, a tiara to be the amazon queen, the rebellious princess. And the words were suddenly maddening easy to say, so maddeningly easy that it surprised her. What had held her back? What had stopped her before? With a relief she didn't know she could have felt, she hurled them at him rapid fire, like a well placed slap on the side of his face.

"Ulquiorra Cifer, I like you."

His eyes had noticeably widened, and she could have laughed for joy, could have grinned until she pulled a muscle from the effort. She saw it there, she could see it in him, and he was a big fat liar to say he couldn't feel, to say there was no possible way he could ever feel. What else could it be, in the sudden widening of his eyes, the sudden tenseness to his frown?

"I told you that was useless." There was an edge to the cold in his words.

"Well I think you had better tell me again. Because I like you, I really like you, and if this is what I have to do to prove it, then I _will._ I know you think I'm stupid, yeah well maybe sometimes I am. I still watch cartoons and collect stuffed animals, I'm slightly crazy and not too mature. But if I'm sure of nothing else, it's the way I feel about you! You can push me away all you want, you can deny me all you want, but I'm not going to go away!"

And the fire was in her, coursing through her without restraint, branding her like the key clutched tightly in her fist. It wasn't going to end like last time! She wasn't going to walk away from her again, not again! She wasn't going to let him walk away from this, wasn't going to let him turn her back on this! He claimed it was impossible, that there was nothing she could do to ever make him feel for her the way she felt for him. Well she would tell him until she was hoarse, screech it to the heavens, chant it up and down the mountain, even if he taped her mouth shut and left her in the dark, she had time and patience and the feelings in her heart could not be so easily quenched. If he was going to be stubborn about this, then so would she!

And before she could think twice, she grimaced and popped the key into her open mouth. And he recoiled away from the door stiffly, as if she had just grown a second head, as if she were the one, changing before his very eyes into a being that could match him blow for blow with equal fervor. And if she could have lifted the world on her shoulders it was now, when he was looking at her like that, and the words were flowing smoothly out of her without regret. Her eyes were narrowed, determined, set. She'd vowed to not let this end like this, not when she'd even been given a chance to begin. Well this was it!

"You don't understand! When you tell me to abandon you, you only make me want to hold you tighter. When you tell me I'm foolish for wanting to believe in you, it only makes me want to make you believe in me. When you walk away and leave me… it only makes me want to follow you until I collapse! Because when you're so cold, so empty, so desolate, living like an untouchable it only makes me want to be the one to make you see! How do you know, when you won't even give me a chance? Ulquiorra, why don't you want to believe me when I tell you, breathless and anxious like this, when being the way I am, I can finally look you in the eyes and say it! I'll say it until you believe it! _Ulquiorra, I like you! I like you I like you I like you!"_

And then the damn broke, all hell broke loose, the universe exploded, reality shifted and tore and maybe she even thought she saw heaven and hell for one brief moment. Because he snapped, he ripped, the façade slipped, the frigid cold was lit into a startling harsh blaze, because those emerald eyes were suddenly as hard as flint, those dark eyebrows narrowed into such a startling display of anger that it could have killed her and buried her six feet under in hellfire.

"_**I'm telling you it's useless!**__"_

Because he was _yelling _at her, because she'd broken that cold façade without knowing how, without knowing why, unknowingly she'd pulled the trigger, and now breathless, she waited for her brains to splatter like vomit all over his wall. If she thought her will was strong, her resolve unshakeable, before the force of his sudden rage they all faded away to nothing. The cold hand of fear had latched into her heart so suddenly, it frightened her to the point of tears. The blood, her pulse roared in her ears, and her knees buckled. Agape, astonished, her mind could barely process the fact that the mask she had so idolized had _shattered, could_ shatter_._ For one maddening moment, she thought she went brain dead, staring wordlessly at his face filled with that tight anger that threatened to blow her away. Because the cold in those emerald eyes snapped at her, snapped at her like smoothly drawn blades, the depths of them hard and accusing, and if she been worth nothing to him before, she suddenly felt ascended to as close to hate as there could be with him.

Because she'd blurred the line, jumped over it, pranced up and down it, danced on it, and even rolled over it. The) blasphemy! How dare she? What right did she think she had, to make him feel this way? What right had she? When she was so unworthy, so insignificant, nothing but a foolish pattering little fool who didn't know better, a stupid little girl who had just been lucky, who had taken one too many liberties.

He'd warned her last time. And if she thought he didn't follow through on his word, then she'd obviously fallen in love with another man. Because she could see it, clearly in the depth of those accusing eyes, that very same warning, reverberating within the confines of her mind.

_**["This situation will not repeat itself."]**_

And then she didn't know what she had been thinking, didn't know what the hell was wrong with her, because suddenly her free hand groped fiercely at her bound one. If she could have ripped the stupid thing from the wall she would have, but super Orihime had headed back to krypton leaving behind a shell, stupid and weak. She had never been more frightened of him than in this very moment, when his eyes were so raw, so open. Maybe she had never really believed they could be filled with anything but detachment. If she'd been smaller, this was the part where she'd wet her Pamper, right here, when she felt her blood run cold and felt the heat rush out of her face, sapping her of her energy. But because she was older, and stupid and confused and because she was naïve and foolish and didn't understand, it was in this very moment that she gulped audibly.

_**[In the unlikely occurrence that I once again find you violating my premises without my explicit permission, I will not be so lenient.]**_

It was only a second later that she realized, with mute horror, that she'd swallowed the key.

But too late, too late! She felt the muffled scream rise and die in her throat, and she realized that once before she would have sighed in sinful delight at the thought of being at his mercy. His face had snapped back, snapped back into that cold façade. But this time it was no longer unreadable, she could see the resolution, the determination etched into the lines of his frown, like dying stars, the warning in his eye_**s.**_ And she almost lost it then, pulled so viciously at that stupid cuff that she swore blood trickled down the inside of her wrist. Because there was no longer emptiness, only that cold resolution, to solidify that warning. And she nearly gnawed her tongue off, threw the weight of her body against that stupid cuff, her heart pounding so fiercely in her chest, that cold sweat breaking out along her forehead, the hairs rising on the back of her neck.

Because the dragon was about to burn the village to cinders with his hellfire, storm the castle, smash the hero to bits, devour the princess unmercifully, no longer sordidly amused by her antics, this time he would rip her limb from limb. She was the sacrificial lamb chained to the altar, staring down the beast that would be her undoing. She wanted to scream for anyone, someone, her palms were sweaty, cold and clammy, she felt sick to her stomach, bloodless and limp. Because those emerald eyes were looking at her.

And she knew that without a doubt, this time he would make sure of it. He would give her what she wanted. He would give her himself, without mercy, without comfort, with nothing but the ice of his flesh and the winter in his eyes. He was going to give her himself, but he was going to break her apart thoroughly in the process, he was going to devour her completely, he was going to utterly destroy her, she wouldn't have enough consciousness left to even pick up the pieces. And the brilliant skies of her fantasies darkened to black, and for one moment she fervently hoped for that sudden slumber, to vanish through the floorboards, to be invisible. She wanted to run, to flee, to evaporate into nothingness before the nature of the unspoken promise between them. She could almost read his eyes. Stupid girl. The princess wanted to be tainted, to be dirtied, to be covered with the cloak of darkness.

She thought she could feel her life flashing before her eyes. The fleeting desires, her dreams, her ideals of her and him. There wouldn't be enough of her left to want much of anything. Instinctively, the dread, the reality slowly seeped in. This time, he was going to break her.

Ulquiorra slammed the door shut behind him.

And it was back to the unforgiving darkness.

* * *

_AN: DUN DUN DUN._

_Maybe he'll eat her. Omnomnom gimme ur SOUL! (...and stuff) _

_Sorry this took so long guys! I went to college and now I don't have half as much time to devote to Ulquihime fun tiemz as I used to, but hang on and we'll get there (eventually!) Anyway, somehow, some way, I would like to blame Mrs. Mimi for all of this. Trifling old people. She sure knows how to help Orihime land in some interesting positions doesn't she? And if you think Syazel was just just trying to be a good neighbor, you're reading this wrong.  
_

_Once again, bow all before the might of the mighty Equitablyinjust and her highlighting power of DOOM. She made this chapter awesome...-er. (As in awesomer. Yeah I suck at that, I know.) _

_Well let us speculate, murhur. (That's me laughing evilly at you btw) Review! They make my college fried brain MOST pleased. Most pleased indeed.  
_

_**Disclaimer: I no own Bleach. Kubo Tite does, that triflin ho heifa. So put that in your pipe and SMOKE it.**_


	6. The Knife Called Lust

**[A**_l__**iC**_e** I**n _C__h_**a**i_n**s]**_

_**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**_

_**[The Knife Called Lust]**_

_**

* * *

**_

It was eerily familiar- it had not been so long ago that she had been here, just like this. It had not been so long ago that she'd been at his mercy, shivering with barely contained excitement, her blood ablaze, her face warm. It had not been so long ago that her heart had pounded like this, but with the might of a desire that she felt she could barely contain. It had been want, it had been need that had raced through her limbs, that had made her tremble. The desire that made her painfully aware of herself in a way that she could never fully grasp in the light of day. The arch of her back as she leaned against the weight of that biting steel, the length of her legs, the smooth expanse of barely revealed skin between the edge of her shirt and the waistband of her cotton skirt. How the heaviness of her breath made her chest heave, the painful, almost tortuous ache burning in her abdomen.

The way her grey eyes, wide, searched futilely in the darkness. This was beginning to feel like some dream, some maddening delusion she'd dreamed up in her stupor. Because she was really still upstairs, dead as a door nail, sprawled out on the floor. And he was hauling her corpse to the corner trash can out back in a black garbage bag. Or she'd really done it, turned to magic dust before his eyes, complete with a_ 'poof!'_ and a shower of sparkles.

Like a broken record, replaying over and over again, a mad jumble of everything within her churning in turmoil. The feel of him beneath her hands, her lips, clashed with the image of that dim alley and that maddening grin. The cold shackles holding her prisoner, the only difference now was that they had been clasped of her own free will. All he needed was a sliver of moon overhead, that sickening glint in his eyes. That was all that was missing, her fear was there, her heart was pounding and she was more aware of her body, herself than ever. She was frightened beyond belief, and she could feel the hot warmth of her tears on her face but she didn't know why. And it was stupid because she didn't know why she was feeling so afraid, it was stupid because he had never hurt her, he had never hurt her, he had _never-!_

"Onna."

She flinched, as if the word had been his hand drawn back to strike her across the face. Her knees knocked together as she struggled to hold herself upright, her free hand trembling so fiercely that she could barely manage to keep it protectively held against her chest. It was feeding time at the pet mart, and she was the mouse in the snake cage.

"Your limbs tremble with barely contained fear. You hyperventilate. You barely have enough composure left to even form words."

She couldn't even find the breath to deny. What was there to deny? It would be pointless to fight against him, to fight against his words. Hadn't she said it before? This was his domain. He was lord and master here. And had she really thought, in one moment, that she would ever be able to fight with him on equal footing? What was the fragility of her love against his iron will? What were her fantasies and ideals against the harsh bite of his reality? He made it hard to for her to remember that she'd ever made him feel, it was hard to make it into a victory when he was so adamant that she wind up the loser.

"Shall I tell you how you _'feel'_?"

And those emerald eyes were suddenly in her line of sight, drawing closer. If they could have devoured her, if she could have drowned in that sea of green, as transfixed as she was by those beacons in the darkness, it would have been then.

"In this moment Onna, you are frightened. Your brief display of bravery has abandoned you, and now you are what you always were. Weak. The strength on which you so heavily relied has faded. There is nothing left for you now but despair. This is a battle you cannot win."

She could acutely recall this same feeling of mute understanding, being devoid of words. Again, she felt as if her throat had been clogged, as if her heart had permanently lodged there. The triumph of that kiss, of those words finally released, faded away into the darkness of her subconscious. Those emerald eyes were on her, filled with that secret accusation, hurling the words at her from some distant part of himself that she could have never even hoped to reach.

"You profess to want someone who you cannot even begin to understand. Feelings you yourself cannot even properly explain."

She wished he was wrong, wished everything he said was nothing but lies for her to refute. She wished she could have proclaimed her innocence, campaigned for her truth, instead of being crushed by his. This was how he saw the world. Her so called feelings, her words, her actions, before him reeked of nothing but untruth. There seemed to be nothing his eyes could not perceive. She felt that if she continued to fall into his eyes, farther and farther down the rabbit hole, she would discover the meaning of it- the reason why he was so empty on the inside. The reason why his eyes stared at her with nothing but that ancient bitterness.

In a brief moment of startling clear reflection, a flash of brilliance, a sudden urge grasped her so strongly, so quickly it snatched her breath away. She could feel the stupid tears, still hot on her cheeks. He hated that. Tears. Tears were proof of the humanity in her that he tried so hard to deny. And before she even had the time to work up the nerve, the words hesitantly dropped from her lips.

"You never hold back. You say what needs to be said, nothing more and nothing else. You don't sugarcoat anything. You don't believe in lying. You don't believe in sparring someone's feelings. You have pride, but not arrogance. I honestly don't think there's a single thing you believe in. Tatsuki says people like you feed on the misery of others. I don't think she's right because…you never mean to cause it, it's just who you are, it's just…in your nature. I don't think you've ever been happy…you…you probably don't even know what happiness is. There's probably not a single person you call friend, or one who thinks of you as one. That's why you don't know, why you can't really know because- b-because-"- here she faltered.

And in that brief moment as before, he was upon her. She could not see- the darkness was complete around her, devoid of all light- before she'd compared it to a personal hell. She had not known hell like she knew it now, surrounded by this hopeless night. In the dark she could feel him, feel the cold of him close to her- and when she raised her head, she was assaulted by the emerald of his eyes. In the dark they burned with the heat of ice flame, which made no sense because ice couldn't flame, but somehow was perfect because it was him.

"Onna." There was a strange something in his voice- an ancient weariness that she dully recognized. When he sounded like that- when she stopped to think of him, of his complete detachment from any and everyone else in the world, something about the cold of him…well maybe if death could walk, live and breathe…she imagined it would be like him. Believing in nothing and no one, immune to the world because surely death would know of the follies of humanity if nothing else. When she thought like that, maybe his…disgust…in her made sense. How could he, so knowledgeable and wise, ever return the feelings of a fool like her? She would have laughed at this, thinking of a genius with the village idiot, but her throat seemed dry and hollow. Were she to even attempt it, she was sure it would be a dry, creaking sound.

"The world is filled with filth. The only logical response is to deny such trifling fixations with others, and rely only on oneself. Happiness and companionship are for the foolish. You humans are all the same. Equally foolish. You are blind to anything but your own world, fraught with delusions."

He spoke slowly, methodically in that voice like the night, and his eyes never left hers. Once more, she was left a step behind, dazed. If he claimed to be able to understand her, very well, she couldn't grasp heads nor tails of him. Had a mere moment ago- had he not raged at her, with an anger so cold she'd felt her heart freeze in her chest and shatter? She shook her head side to side in disbelief, gulping audibly at the conviction in his voice. Happiness and friends for the foolish? Of course he could say that if he didn't know what it was like! Maybe she was deluded, she couldn't deny that, but delusions or no, that didn't change the fact that deep down in her heart she-

"You Onna…do not know the meaning of despair. Fear and pain have never been your teacher."

She wasn't sure what to say to that. She had not known what true fear meant until she'd loved him, the simple fears she'd had of cockroaches and giraffes seemed foolish when compared to him, and the demons that stalked alleys at night, waiting for stupid little girls like her to wander by. But that wasn't right._ It wasn't right_. He couldn't stare her in the eyes and tell her that, not when he didn't know, not when he didn't even attempt to comprehend this… the ache in her heart, that empty hollow inside of her that only he could fill.

"You're wrong." She began quietly, and she could feel her eyes soften as she continued to peer hesitantly into the depths of his. She wanted him to understand. She wanted him to know. "I know about pain. There's nothing more painful than loving someone… who won't even try to love you back. There's no fear like loving someone… knowing at any moment that they could slip from between your hands. And knowing that… they were never yours to claim anyway. There's… nothing like that, not in the whole world."

His gaze intensified, and she felt like she was being peered at under a microscope, stripped apart to the very core of her being beneath his gaze. Again, this feeling of complete vulnerability swept over her so suddenly that before she could stop herself, before she could stop it from happening, her hand was touching him. In the dark, in an almost trance like daze, her eyes bored into his own, the cold of his cheek scorching her palm. He didn't lean into her touch, nor did he run from it. That feeling from before welled up within her, that strange feeling within her that wanted to submit wholly to him, that feeling that between them now was something she would never be able to put into words. That strange, wordless struggle that was always on the edge of his gaze, searching her face with that quiet intensity that made her heart flutter and made her knees tremble.

"…I do not understand you Onna. Knowing this, why do you continue to put so much faith in one who denies the existence of such things as foolish as feelings?"

Against her will, she felt her hand stroke longingly along the length of his cold cheek. It was smooth and hard, like marble. She didn't think she could have pinched it, no matter how hard she tried. She'd have better luck trying to pinch the cheek of a doll than she would with him. The thought made her smile slightly.

"I have faith that I can change him, and make him understand."

And she knew that somehow she'd ruined it, instinctively, as soon as the words left her lips. Before she could blink, her hand was hovering empty, grasping the dark. His eyes had retreated away from her, and she hastily withdrew her arm back towards her chest as she noticed the return of that cold determination in his eyes.

"…Nonsense. Very well. I shall teach you Onna… what it means to place your faith in anyone but yourself. True despair."

* * *

"_I do not understand him. I myself am growing curious of this mortal that has grasped his attention."_

"_Well perhaps it was bound to happen- after all these centuries, how fitting for him to finally meet a mortal perplexing enough to procure his interest."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Consider this- he is the incarnate of Nihilism. __An extreme form of skepticism: the denial of all real existence or the possibility of an objective basis for truth, nothingness or nonexistence, complete destructiveness at the world and at oneself. Or let's just say this, in his case, __annihilation of the self or the individual consciousness, is far more fitting. He has never once, not in all these countless years, done anything for himself. Nor has he wanted too. It has always been for the good of the master, for the good of the master-"_

"_-even now?"_

"_-especially now. Ever since Los Noches fell in the last great war, along with our precious 'Master.' Once he went, there was no chance in hell we could have managed the aftermath- to impose order on that lawless chaos that has reigned since his demise? Suicide."_

"…_.do you believe he will ever return?"_

"_I should hope not, especially when I'm having so much fun."_

"_Well it has been a century or two now, give or take a couple of decades…and we've seen men be born only to die, and die just to live and hunt us."_

"_Can you blame them? We're the last of a dying breed. Once we fall- well, that will be the end of it. Hueco Mundo will once more return to that illogical hell. Without order, without law, without mercy… the soul reapers wouldn't have to worry their pretty little heads anymore. Hueco Mundo would eventually annihilate itself. We were the last order you know, and if the master does return, we would be his last chance to overthrow the heavens. Without that… thing on which he relied, we would be his only hope. And that of course, is only if the master still lives, and if we are still alive should he ever return, which I doubt… the times aren't right for such things."_

"_Well said… Now… what do you think he'll do to her, considering the way things have turned?"_

"…_he is the most logical of us all. The smart thing to do would be to just eat her and be done with all of this nonsense. However…."_

"…_however…?"_

"_Come, come… such opportunities are few and far in between. Why not keep her? It will perhaps be another couple of centuries before he shall meet a mortal with the emotional capacity to stand someone like him. Why not explore it for himself? What these humans call 'love.' We Espada were not born to appreciate such things, not much besides the hell fire, the fight and bloody victories. However we have been in the human world long enough- and Nnoitra has lost himself in the flesh, Grimmjow in the glory of battle, I in my studies- surely there is not something for him as well?"_

"…_So we shall permit this?"_

"_Why not? If he were to decide for himself otherwise, there would not be much that could be done to stop him. And do you not see how much fun this can be? A hollow, a heartless, emotionally detached being, learning to love? The blasphemy in this is just too rich to pass up."_

"_What if? Are you mad? Soul Society has probably already claimed her, as pure a soul as she has. Are you prepared for the consequences?"_

"_They have more than enough, surely one pure soul won't exactly matter now will it? Besides, by the time the dust settles, I highly doubt such will be the case. Besides, I have a wager to settle. And I have never lost a bet. And in case you've forgotten, yes I am mad. As mad as a hatter that's gotten to mad for his hat in fact."_

"_My, my brother… you are unmatched. Perhaps you are the one to be most wary of. How in the world did you find all this out?"_

"_She's a simple enough child. Under the lure of confidentiality, one can find out many things… namely, that her friends are overbearing and would not permit this, that her landlord is horrifically insensitive and crude when it comes to such things, her only remaining family cares not for her or her well being, and she's lost, confused and stumbling over that threshold between adolescence and adulthood. To whom else can she turn? I am merely a stranger to her, and have you not heard the saying that surely strangers can give one clearer insight on these matters?"_

"_So that's what you mean when you said-"_

"_That's exactly right. Honestly, in the void that is my heart, I'd pity her… if I wasn't enjoying myself so much. Poor girl. I understand now. I understand everything. She's madly, irrevocably in love with him… our Ulquiorra-sama."_

_

* * *

_

His lips were cold and hard against her own. They were firm and set, the force behind them on the verge of bruising the soft flesh of her own lips. He didn't close his eyes. One of his frigid hands tightened securely around her wrist, bringing her forward against him. She couldn't pull away. She didn't want to. The cold of his embrace made her feel as if her flesh was on fire, lit from within. She wondered if he were the one melting, or if she were the one freezing. Slowly but surely...

She couldn't think, she barely had enough of her conscious left to formulate a single thought, much less words. The kiss was endless, unforgiving, merciless… she could have kept going forever, to describe everything the kiss wasn't. It wasn't anything like she expected, but everything she didn't want. She could have been kissing a corpse- or maybe it was he. She wondered which of them now was the colder. The kiss of death. When his lips left hers, she felt dead. Cold and empty inside. Her blood seemed sluggish and slow, lazy, warm. But…

That cold kiss was…

"You are satisfied."

"…No." In the dark, her voice trembled again, on the verge of tears.

"Onna. I am incapable of passion."

She knew that, stupid, she knew that, she _did_, but she wondered why it was now that it seemed to really hit her. This was it. That was it. That cold kiss had done it. It had finished her- he hadn't persuaded her with his logic- but with that untouchable indifference. She drew her hand up to her face, whimpering as a sob was smothered in her throat. The tears on her face were fresh, hot, warm. She didn't know what to do with them besides feel them, warm and lazily running between her fingertips.

"I…I don't understand. I don't! I don't! You won't, you _can't_-"

"Onna. There was nothing you claimed to not already expect."

It wasn't anger, it wasn't hate or… she didn't know what it was, welling within her.

"No! That's not right! That's not right at all! This is all wrong! You have to put your heart in it! How can you just do something like that without putting your heart into it?"

"Onna, the heart…" She didn't want to hear him condemn it, she didn't want to hear him abhor it, justify it with that infallible logic that would leave her behind, didn't want him to put it into those cold, cold words. And it wasn't rage that struck her, not anger or hate- but frustration and desperation.

"_It's here!_" She screamed at him, reaching forward, forcefully grabbing his hand, the cold of his fingers biting into the warmth of her own as she snatched his hand to her, barely breathing as she held it tightly to her chest. Immediately, an electric tingle raced down the length of her spine, she sucked in a heady breath, smothering the strangled cry of need threatening to burst from between her lips. The cold of his palm against her- she felt naked, freed, unbound, and the heat was in her face and she nearly toppled forward, barely managing to hold herself together. She could have been ripped apart just from that, just from that, the feel of his hand against her. She'd dreamed of this; of those hands and tender caresses, slow, leisurely strokes against her skin.

She wound her fingers through his, pressing his palm more firmly against her breast, the pulsating organ beneath her flesh beating an erratic tattoo against his palm. She wondered if he could feel the heat wafting off of her skin, wondered if the warmth of her could warm him. She noticed her hands were trembling. Her knees, knocking together. Her blood sang.

"It's _here_." She repeated again, firmly, even though the words were airy and breathless. She dared look into his eyes. And what she saw there made her pause, made the words dry up in her throat. His eyes were widened ever so slightly, staring at their hands, together, against her. She sucked in a breath, and held it, pensive and anxious as she felt the length of his spindly fingers pressed against her. His frigid hands seemed to sear her, burn her, mark her. She tried to hold herself together, beneath that frigid palm. She tried not to squirm, tried not to move, every single cell in her body on edge, aware, hoping. If he so much as moved a finger, if he so much as moved a finger she _would_ explode, she _would_ burst into pieces, she _would _fall apart at the seams.

Her breath came in and out, in ragged breaths that broke the tense silence enveloping them in the dark. He spoke.

"…And therein is where such illogical feelings spawn."

He could have broken out of her hold easily, without the slightest bit of effort- he had long since proven that. Were her other hand freed, she would have placed it over his as well, to stop him from leaving. She couldn't do it. She knew anymore of this could end her, anymore of this could send her flying to the winds. And with a dip of her head, she tucked her chin, and softly pressed her lips to the tip of his finger.

"No." She stated, her eyes never leaving his, the grey orbs wavering, forcefully trying to make him understand. "This is where love resides."

"…You will not yield." His eyes never left hers.

She didn't flinch. "I won't."

"You will hold to your misconceptions and delusions of what this 'love' entails."

His hand tightened around her breast, as if he could feel her heart beneath his palm, as if he would have liked nothing better than to snatch the silly thing right out of her chest and end all of this. And she could feel the length of every single one of his fingertips, pressing against her flesh. She sucked in a breath, struggling to focus, to ignore the flame burning between her legs. If she could hold on, if she could survive, if she could show him, whatever she had to do to show him, she _would_-

"I don't have any delusions, or misconceptions. Not anymore. I know what love is. It's what I feel for you."

And time stopped once more, all over again, as his eyes bored into hers. He sighed. It was a strange sound, like the wind on the water at night. And the hairs rose on the back of her neck. And the hairs rose on the back of her neck, and her throat was dry. She hastily ran her tongue over her lips. It was fine, it would be fine. He had never hurt her, his words could only wound her so much, could only hurt her so much. She could survive. She could prove it to him, she could show him.

"Lesson One, Onna."

She sucked in a breath in the dark, the words, echoing in her head like a mantra. He _couldn't_ hurt her. He _wouldn't_ hurt her. He could vent, he could rage, he could push her away, he could throw her away… but she would return, she would come back, she wouldn't give up. She could do this. Now or never, now was her time to show him, this was her chance to change him. If she could only bear this, if she could only survive this, then what more could he do? How much longer could he resist? She remembered a movie she'd seen once. Some superhero movie, one where the hero met his match in a villain who he could not even begin to imagine, couldn't even begin to fathom. And why not? The villain had prompted then: 'What happens when an immovable force meets an unstoppable force?'

And what would happen? He would not move. She wouldn't stop. He'd said last time, that was where they ended. She'd vow they would begin. Immovable, he would not give in, he would not bend. Unstoppable, she would not give up, she would not submit to his will, not when it involved willingly separating herself from him. What was there to be done? Where was the resolution? Where? How?

"Enemies will take advantage of any and all weaknesses presented to them. They will use any means necessary to make an opponent submit. You will hold to your misguided conception concerning love. Very well. If that is so, Onna, then I will not hesitate to show you the error of your ways."

She didn't know what he meant, she didn't know what to expect, but she'd gotten this far. And again she knew, she was certain that if she could survive this, if she could survive this, there wasn't anything he could do to her _(she told herself)_ it was fine, it would be fine, he wouldn't- no, it didn't matter, nothing mattered. She was strong enough, she _was_ strong enough. In her weakness was her strength, in her fear was her courage, in her actions, in her words lay the proof of her conviction. She couldn't see, _she couldn't see_, it was dark, it was cold. But there wasn't any place she'd rather be, there wasn't anyone she'd rather be with, there wasn't anyone she could have hated more, there wasn't anyone she could have loved more than him. She couldn't really explain it, she couldn't even justify it- all she knew was that her heart, her body, all she knew was that everything within her wanted him. She wanted him. She wanted him. He was the one she choose, and if this was what had to be done to make him believe, if this was what she had to do _then_-

The cold, cold hand, seared against the smooth expanse of skin revealed beneath her skirt. The hand. On her thigh. Cold. Drawing upwards, drawing upwards, drawing-

She felt the air whoosh out of her lungs. Beneath his palm, her heart surely stuttered to a halt beneath his palm. The hairs rose along the back of her neck. And all she could think of, all she could feel, was that hand. That cold hand, there against her thigh. That cold hand, drawing up the length of her thigh. That hand. Those five fingers, his fingertips leisurely dragging at her skin. That hand. That _hand_. That. Hand. Drawing upwards.

"You _wouldn't._" It sounded odd. How odd it sounded, those words in the dark. She sounded stupid. She sounded like what that little girl would have sounded like, if she'd been approached by that man in the night, by that monster who ate stupid little girls when the moon was full. Even she couldn't understand it, that strange edge to her voice. She wondered if it was disbelief. She wondered. She wondered what her face must look like now, in the dark. She wondered if he could see her, could feel all of the warmth drain out of her face, noticed the way her lip trembled, her eyes wide. Eyes wide with disbelief.

His hand paused, the hand, cold, seared the flesh of her thigh. Seared the innocent flesh of her thigh, untouched by man. His hand was there, against her. She couldn't believe it. She _couldn't_ believe it. This didn't feel real, it felt like a dream, it felt like a nightmare, it felt like-

"You will surrender." The cruelty in his voice was palpable.

Dumbly, she realized she'd been staring at him the entire time. Momentarily struck blind, in a deluded haze, all she could acknowledge was the cold of that hand against the warmth of her thigh. She blinked. He was close upon her, so close she could have touched him again. So close she could almost feel him, could almost feel the ice in his blood. Close enough to touch her. Close enough to be touching her. Close enough. And she was the one who had drawn him in, she was the one who had wanted to trap him. She was the one who had wanted to keep him to her, to keep him, to keep that hand against her heart. Maybe she'd thought if he'd known of hers, if he'd felt it, if he'd held it and realized it was his, only his, that maybe he would find his own.

Coldly. Without the slightest remorse. Without the least bit of pity he could look her in the eyes and make her choose. Without mercy, just that easily, once more he'd broken her delusions and ground them to dust beneath his heel. She thought she was the one trapping him. She'd been the one trapped all along. Just as planned? Was this what he wanted? How easy she'd made it for him. Now he could break her at his own discretion, at his own pace. Just like this. In the dark, her only vision of him the cruelty in his eyes. When all she could feel was his hand on her heart, not holding it like it was precious, like it was something to be treasured. Holding it like it was fragile, holding it with the power he knew he had over her, holding it as if he would have liked nothing more than to clutch his fist. Clutch his fist and shatter her stupid feelings to pieces.

She wanted to tell him. _'You're a monster'_ she would say. But it wouldn't matter because she still loved him, because that was all she could do. Even if he was cruel, even if he was merciless, even if he was without pity, without a heart, without a shred of compassion. She still loved him. And she was stupid, so very stupid. Stupid. _'You're a monster.'_ She could have said, some secret part of her that wanted to yell it at him, scream it at him. That same part of her that wanted to hold him, to love him, to make him understand.

"Onna."

And she wasn't strong enough. She wasn't brave enough. She wasn't courageous or bold enough. She alone wasn't enough. She wasn't enough of a girl to deny, wasn't enough of a woman to accept. And she was stupid because she knew he knew, stupid because she knew he knew she wouldn't give up. _She knew he knew._ He would push her limits, he was the only one who could, the only one. And she couldn't find the words. Stupidly, she wanted to cry again. Cry bitter, bitter tears.

"Why?" She didn't mean to sound so broken. She didn't mean it. She didn't mean to let him know. The impossible choice; give him up, give this up, give up on a chance for something more or… _this_. That hand. Cold. On her thigh. Without the love she craved, without the tenderness she wanted, without the impassioned kisses, without-

In the dark, his eyes were tight, set. She questioned him…she dared to question him. And therein laid her reply. They both knew why she'd asked. It didn't need to be said. They both knew what she would decide, long before the time of reckoning had arrived. The both of them had known. Why? Because he knew there was no other way to control her. Because there was no other way to dissuade her. He couldn't dissuade her with his logic. He couldn't convince her with his truth. He couldn't hurt her with his words, biting with the edge of truth. Such weapons could only harm her to a certain extent, before she would return, before she would come back to try again, and again. She understood. It was her fault. Because she persisted. Because she wouldn't give up. Because she still believed she could change him, because her love for him hadn't wavered. She understood him. She understood why. This between them was war. And if all else had failed, then he would hurt her in the vilest way possible. The only option left, the only way left for him to teach her the error of her ways, the only option left to make her lament her decision, make her regret.

Yes, it was cruel, to fight her with the only thing she couldn't control, to fight her with the only thing she had not yet learned to resist. Yes it was immoral, to toy with her feelings, to use her love against her…to use her body against her.

He didn't say anything more.

And then that cold hand was against _her. _

She told herself not to scream, she told herself not to make sound. If he knew! If he _knew!_ It would last longer, it would be crueler, his eyes would be colder, his hands more insistent. She told herself that, as her heart sprinted beneath his palm, told herself that as the cold of his finger stroked against her. Told herself that, when her breath began to come in ragged breaths, when her knees began to tremble, when her shackled hand shook so hard she could feel the tremors racing through her arm. Her hand, over his, clutched insistently at his wrist. She wished she could push him away, hurl him away, wished she could have done anything but clutch tighter at his hand, the fingers trembling. She closed her eyes, slammed her mouth shut_. 'Not a sound'_ she told herself. Not a sound.

The cold of his fingertips.

Dragged against her, a whisper against her.

Not yet. Not yet. But the room was aflame. Her eyes were closed but she could feel her head swim dizzily in the dark.

And the cold of his fingertips.

Prodded against her.

And she stumbled on her feet, stumbled and tumbled against him, her shackled hand held at an awkward angle above her, her head, pressed against his shoulder, her hand, his, still against her breast. And his hand, the cold one, still against _her. _It could have been a lover's embrace, if he had loved her as fiercely as she did him, it could have been, if the cruel intent behind that cold hand hadn't been so unforgiving.

The cotton of his shirt gave her flushed face a momentary relief. He smelled like freshly trampled snow, or earth. Bloodstained earth. Like the air of the tomb. Like the moon on the water. She couldn't think, she couldn't think, she could only feel that-

That cold hand.

Prodded against her.

And she smothered the wordless scream into his shoulder, muffled it in the cloth of his shirt. Her hand clawed at the back of his. Her legs nearly gave out beneath her. In the dark, her breath came, rushed, ragged breaths hastily drawn in and out. And she couldn't breathe fast enough, she couldn't breathe fast enough-_dear god_- air wasn't sweet enough, not here, not here where it smelled like death and bitterness, not here, where cold immovable hands touched you and made you freeze to the core.

His hand paused. His chest rumbled when he spoke, the cool of his breath against her ear, even though she hadn't felt him tuck his head. Even though he hadn't moved, probably hadn't blinked, not when he seemed to be able to do this so easily, so _easily_.

"I do not understand. Why torture yourself in this manner? It is simple enough. If you would only relinquish these idiotic feelings, you will be spared this torment. All you have to do Onna, is refute those illogical statements and vow to never return. It is simple enough. Mortals such as you place so much emphasis on morals, on character, on societal standards. Why renounce such things over a matter so trivial?"

She couldn't find words. She could only feel herself, could only feel herself the way only he could make her feel, feel herself the way only he could incite in her. She could only feel the blood roaring in her ears, the heat in her face, the barely restrained cacophony of sounds being swallowed in her throat. The cold of his hands. Against her. _Against her._

"Love...love isn't something so trivial. It's not something so cheap that it can just be thrown away over something like this. It's fine. D-Do your worst. Do your worst because I love you. Do your worst because that isn't going to change, no matter how much you push me away, no matter how much you hurt me. It's not-"

She lost the words. She would not get another chance to say them again. She couldn't see him, but she could feel him, feel the cold suddenly amplified in his chest. Could feel it again, pouring out of him. That bitterness. That ancient, biting bitterness, aimed at her. His voice was clipped. Cold.

"I see. Then, Inoue Orihime, you are as foolish as I thought."

And he ripped his hand from her chest, ripped free from her grip so easily her eyes wrenched open, ripped open wide as the cold of his hand tightened around her wrist, drawing the limp arm upwards, slamming it against the wall to join its brethren. She barely had time to breathe, barely had time to scream. Afraid, afraid, afraid of that stone cold accusation in his eyes. Grey eyes wide, in disbelief, in disbelief. His knee moved forward, pried her legs apart. Her head, the room spun, spun, spun. His eyes never left her face, and in them was that liquid cold, that cold, seeping from his eyes into her. She tried to close her eyes, terrified, she wanted to close her eyes, but his eyes held her captive, his eyes held her captive. And stupid, _stupid!_

And his hand was against her. There was no mercy, no love, no compassion, no pity, as he ground his palm against her. Ground his palm against her clothed center, looking at her with that edge to his eyes, that immovable frown, that impassive face as he ground his palm against her as if it were nothing, as if it were _nothing. _And she broke, she broke, because she threw her head back and screamed, screamed at the impossibility of it, the cruelty of it. Screamed because her body was on fire, screamed because the pressure was building and building and it wasn't fair, it wasn't right, _it wasn't!_

And his fingers pressed and prodded and pressed, as if he'd known her all along, as if he'd known all along, all about her secrets, all about her fantasies, all about princesses and dragons. And she couldn't breathe, could only suck in enough air to scream, to scream. And she screamed, and he pulled and prodded and pressed, and she screamed, and her legs trembled, trembled, and she threw her head back against the wall, the sounds, broken whispers, strangled cries of pain or pleasure, she didn't know, but her body burned, her body _burned. _And she screamed because her virgin flesh didn't understand, screamed because her heavy heart couldn't understand, screamed because the cold of his hands was against her prodding and pulling and pressed…

And that dark tide was rising, rising, rising-

And the cold of his hands against her heated flesh, pressed against her aching need, pulling and pulling and pressing, and she couldn't see she was blind, she couldn't think she was dumb, she couldn't-

And she tossed her head, the hair plastered against her forehead, against her neck, her breasts heaved and she couldn't find the breath to scream quick enough, couldn't do anything besides gasp audibly, couldn't do anything but tremble beneath that skilled hand, and she was a traitor, a whore, a liar- she couldn't, she _couldn't!_

And somehow her widened, desperate gaze found his, found his as she squirmed beneath him, her body quivering for him, her body ripe and ready for him, just like this, without the love, without the love and she was loose and ready for him like some whore, like some-

His eyes didn't leave hers as he pulled and prodded and pressed and-

She was blown apart, she exploded, she exploded into a million pieces, her legs gave out, her body, arching off the wall at an impossible angle, and she screamed like she'd never screamed before, screamed and screamed and screamed.

And that dark tide overwhelmed her.

* * *

"Oi, I'm looking for that Hime chick, have you seen her?"

She paused, her lips nibbling slightly on the edge of her pencil. The note page in front of her was filled with scrawls, of crudely drawn horned rabbit people dancing erratically around an orange haired rabbit swinging a sword. She hurried to sweep the doodle under a pile of papers that she hadn't bothered to even attempt to read. The library was silent in this corner, the perfect place to brood, or plan as it were. She drew her eyes upward, and nearly toppled over in her chair. She blinked owlishly at the man in front of her, blinking a few times to assure herself that this was real.

"…Come again?"

Grimmjow scoffed, a scowl rapidly stretching across the rugged lines of his face. His hands were shoved haphazardly into his pockets, and his entire form was tensed, an anxious air around him that made her gulp nervously under her breath, despite the foolishness of the action. He was only a man, had she not dealt with worse? Had she not faced far mightier and frightening opponents than some blue haired maniac with an anger management problem? She didn't like the feeling welling up in the base of stomach. She hurried to compose herself, putting down her pencil and sitting up straight in her chair to give him her full, undivided attention. There may have been many who cowered on the end of his ferocious gaze, but she would not be one of them. She coolly met his eyes.

"You're her friend aren't ya? I'm lookin' for her."

She drew back, a crinkle in her brow. She knew about him, knew that it was highly likely that he was a textbook definition of what these mortals called 'clinical psychopaths' and for reasons she had never been able to identify Ichigo hated him with an inhuman passion. He was right, this man before her reeked of a malice and evil so far ingrained into his being that she could taste chaos on the edge of her tongue. She'd never been in such proximity to him, and it was just as well. The black of his soul was almost tangible, she'd never been in the presence of a human with such a filthy aura. She felt like covering her nose and mouth just sitting here.

His scowl deepened beneath her gaze, bearing her scrutiny with a barely contained growl rumbling in his throat. She wasn't surprised. Nothing offended a wild dog more than when you met their eyes. If she didn't know any better, she could've sworn his arms tensed, as if those deep pockets hid his tightly grasped fists. He was easy enough to read, the longer she met the increasing rage in his eyes. It was taking everything in him not to strike her.

"Oi! Answer the _damn_ question! I got better shit to do than stand here playing the fuckin' quiet game!"

She frowned, quickly gathering her things into her shoulder bag. She stood up from the table, ice in her gaze as she met the fire in his. She didn't waver, despite him being two heads taller than her and twice as wide. He was looking at her now as if he would have liked nothing better than to smash her face in until his knuckles were drenched with blood. She was slight, but her body had long since grown accustomed to this. She faced him warily, prepared for just such an action, in which she would be sure to assure him of the error in his judgment for even thinking about intimidating her. She'd heard he was merciless, no matter if it were a man, woman or child. Tasting the very essence of destruction and chaos that seemed to be flowing around him, she believed it.

"Well if that's how you go about asking for someone, I don't see why on earth I should. As if I'd tell someone like _you_ were she was, considering how rudely you went about it. I see men of your nature are raised with all the manners of wild animals. Besides, why on earth would you be interested in finding her? Let me guess - you're planning to beat her up and take her lunch money?"

His scowl evolved into a full blown snarl, and she could have sworn his eyes lit up from the force of his rage. He whipped his hands out of his pockets, fists tensed, veins visible against the flesh. She tensed up immediately, angling her body slightly to better counter act should he choose to rush her. His rage was prevalent, his eyebrows were drawn over his wild eyes, his face contorted into a expression of murderous rage.

"_Bitch,_" he hissed at her, grinding the words from between his clenched teeth. "I should snatch your fucking jaw for that."

"I'm shaking in my boots, Grimmjow. Or is that your way of coming on to me?" She smirked in his face, reveling in the increasingly growing rage on his face. Tatsuki taught her that one, she was glad to finally be able to put it to good use. Being human had its perks - the insults, for one.

"I'm already fucking pissed for the day, the last thing I need is some little prissy bitch trying to tell me off. Maybe you'll feel more talkative after your fucking teeth are in my palm."

He drew his arms upward, his sleeves drawn up, making the swell of muscle rippling through his arms painfully apparent. He cracked his knuckles, and suddenly a sliver of fear crept into her heart. She shook her head fiercely from side to side, hurrying to disregard the feeling. He was only human! It was nothing short of foolishness to fear a mere mortal, no matter how… The pressure in the room dipped, she stumbled, almost dropping to her knees. She looked up in surprise, shocked and in disbelief. There was no way! _No way!_

It was too late. By the time she looked up, by the time she righted herself, slowly as if in a dream, she saw the fist rocketing straight towards her face. She felt fear blossom in her chest for the first time, because _she couldn't dodge it. _This was impossible, impossible because no mere mortal could do this, no mortal could be quicker than her eyes, no mortal could… _but she couldn't see, it she couldn't dodge, he couldn't be serious this couldn't be real!_

She wrenched her eyes shut and flesh pounded on flesh.

-And the blow never came. On bated breath, she pried open her eyes. She was blinded, blinded by the sun from the window, reflecting off of the orange glint of his hair. And deep within some secret part of her, beneath the pride that roared at the shameful nature of the act, of being rescued when she was strong and capable- beneath the pride and the envy was something more- relief. She smiled at that tall proud back, as the hand that had easily caught the thrown fist.

"Is this how you pass the time now Grimmjow? Beating up girls? How about you try that shit with me?"

She wanted to warn him, to tell him- but the air was suddenly tight, tense, rigid with the scent of barely contained power. Wordlessly, again, the dip- and she _knew_, instinctively now she _knew._ Her lips were set, tight, her hands clutched into fists. She could have laughed at the irony, or at his stupidity. Just that easily! That _easily! _She wasn't sure what to make of it, wasn't sure how to interpret this- as an ill omen, or as the inevitable?

Grimmjow's responding grin was malicious, drenched with a joy so intense it frightened her.

"Ichibitch. I've been waiting for you ya kno? We've got a score to settle."

Ichigo's grin was tight, and he took a step back, shielding her. Warily, she stood by his side. If this was fate, then so be it, she would take her place- standing by him. She'd made the choice, she'd decided, and she would hold to it. They could take him. The both of them together, were more than enough. Silently, she glanced into his eyes, nodding wordlessly. Without a word, without a command, reading her eyes, he understood. He understood her like no one did, and the grin left his face- the steel in his gaze. He understood. He knew what needed to be done. And it was with conviction that he responded.

"Well there's no time like the present."

* * *

She came to, sitting down on the floor. Her entire body felt weak. Drained, spent. She could barely remember her name. And she ached. She _ached. _Ached in a place that was suddenly shameful, ached in a place she suddenly hated fiercely. She didn't know if she felt broken, like she should have. She felt empty. Empty and cold. She tried to move her arms. They were limp, heavy. She tried to raise them, to wrap them around herself… she was cold. Cold. She didn't think she'd ever get warm again. She couldn't even remember what it was like, that peculiar heart warmth she'd had in such abundance.

Wearily, she opened her eyes.

The light was on. And for the first time, she saw _The Room_. It was empty. Empty. The walls were a collage of chipped layers of paint over shading one another in some places, fighting for dominance in others. Patches of grey, white, and rust colored like blood. The cold floor beneath her was cement, an ugly shade of mutated grey. There was a ragged series of wooden steps that led upwards towards the door, which she knew led out to the hall. A part of the ceiling was covered with a few long fluorescent light bulbs that brightly lit the room. She let her eyes drift upwards, above her. The light flashed off the steel handcuffs, attached to chains that disappeared into holes in the wall. She remembered being hoisted upwards, screaming as she tried to pull but was only dragged higher. There must have been a pulley behind the wall. Down here, as above, there were no windows.

She pretended not to see him. Pretended not to see him, standing there in the middle of the room, staring at her. Standing there, with his hands shoved in his pockets, his back rigid as always, with that loose length in his arms, the emerald of his eyes not as luminescent in the blinding electric light.

She couldn't look at him, as she struggled to her knees, nearly whimpering aloud at the effort, the protest aching in her abdomen. Her body, satisfied, finally satisfied, wanted to meditate, to bask. But no. She couldn't bear the sight of him. Not now. She wanted to leave. She _had _to leave. She had to-

"Onna."

She couldn't look at him. Leaning heavily against the wall, hesitantly she drew her body upwards, feeling something hot and warm against the inside of her thigh. She drew in a ragged breath, and took a jerky step. Her legs trembled. Had she not been leaning against the wall, she would have collapsed to her knees and laid there. Laid there, and never gotten up again. She didn't want to see him, didn't want to hear him. Not now, not after… not when the cold was in her chest.

"You could have simply submitted."

She didn't reply, pressing both of her palms against the wall, slowly navigating her way towards the stairs, one jerky step at a time. Her throat felt rough, dry, as if the inside of it had been scraped with sandpaper. She could barely remember her name. She couldn't think, she _couldn't._

_But he could. _Like a machine, like the perfect little robot, with that soulless gaze, that heartless being, with that cold artificial flesh, with that insurmountable logic. He took three perfect little steps closer to her, and warily, she turned to stare at him through the curtain of her hair. She didn't want to hear him. She knew, she _knew_, that he wasn't done, not when he had to prove her wrong, not when he had to break her further, break her completely. That hadn't been enough, she hadn't learned enough, she hadn't returned to her place.

"I see I grossly under estimated you. What manner of human being what submit themselves to such torment, when all was required of them was to relinquish a single delusion? I understand now. Love? You are naught but a fool. And this notion about the heart is nothing more than idle banter. 'The heart is where love resides?' The idea is laughable."

Laughable. The idea was laughable. Her heart, her love, idle banter. And after she'd said the words. After she'd borne his cruelty, the proof of it imprinted against her own body, still trembling at the thought of his hands. After she felt stripped, cold, on the inside. After she had offered to him everything she knew, everything she had; her love, her passion, her naked need… to prove to him she meant it, to prove to him this was real. Laughable. If she thought he could not have broken her more thoroughly, if she thought he was incapable of more cruelty, she was wrong. She was wrong. She was wrong.

It took her four strides.

Four. Long. Strides.

She drew her hand up and back.

On the fourth stride she swung with all her might, swung with all her soul, her spirit, the shattered remains of her ego, the discarded pieces of her love.

And she struck him across the face.

In the empty room, the slap rebounded off of the walls, amplified in the silence that followed, interrupted only by her ragged intakes of breath. His head was turned from the force of her blow, his eyes staring blankly at the wall. Her shoulders heaved, her body rigid, her eyes narrowed and aflame. She could feel her teeth gnawing at her lip, feel the pin pricks of tears in her eyes. And ever so slowly, his head turned, his gaze turned, and settled back on her. Those emerald eyes settled on her.

She ran.

She turned and ran with strength she didn't know she had. She bounded up the steps, slammed the basement door behind her. Dashed down the hall, past the kitchen, through the living room. She half expected him to chase her, to stop her, to grab her, screaming. There was no chase. No cold hands grabbed her by the length of her hair and dragged her back. There were no more screams. She barely made it through his door, barely slammed it against her, before she was crying. She cried like she'd never cried before, sobs that made her shoulders heave, that wracked through her chest so fiercely it was painful. And the tears poured down her cheeks so she thought they would never stop, with her face buried in her hand she crumpled against the back of his door, and she cried like she hadn't since her brother died.

* * *

_AN:There it is. Intense chapter was intense. I'm not sure what to make of this, I'm really quite curious to see what everyone thought of it. I felt really bad for Orihime this chapter...that must really suck, liking a guy that much. But I believe she's capable of that, considering. All the same, poor girl. I hope she has a happy ending...one of these days. And you can't tell me this time that slap wasn't deserved. CAUSE IT WAS. As before, please review, getting those bad boys while I'm studying are nothing short of rainign skittles to me...as in they make me feel GEWD. And gewd= quicker chapters right?  
_

_PS: I friggen love you guys. I got a record 34 reviews for this chapter. Hear that? 34? You guys rule. I was so happy I didn't know what to do with myself to be honest. I nearly flipped my laptop when I checked my e-mail and saw all of those bad boys. I didn't get around to replies this chapter, but if I had the time I would have. Every single one. You guys are just THAT AWESOME._

_PSS; I don't own Bleach...dammit. And that movie quote was from The Dark Knight I think...and I don't own that either...double dammit. _

_Anyway, see you guys next chapter!  
_


	7. Unbound The Wild Ride

**[A**_l__**iC**_e** I**n _C__h_**a**i_n**s]**_

_**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**_

_**[Unbound- The Wild Ride]**_

* * *

He sat on the couch, daintily sipping tea, when the one whom he came to visit "returned"- meaning he decided to take it upon himself to finally reveal his presence. As if from nothing, he arrived- suddenly standing there before him with his hands in his pockets, as if he had been there all along, observing him, for some time. It was an interesting feeling, being watched through those empty eyes.

He smiled.

"Good evening Ulquiorra."

And that sunken gaze, impossibly sharp, although it seemed to peer at the world from the bottom of some pit to hell, stared through him as if he weren't there. As if he weren't even there. But Ah- it was not as before, when those passionless eyes stared at him as if he were nothing more than filth littering the sidewalk, when those eyes stared at him as if he were hardly worthy of being on the receiving end of them. It had never been simple disgust, never been outright arrogance- he didn't dare to sum up that gaze with a word as simple as hate. No, no- he understood it very well.

He couldn't be individually hated, loathed-for this man to do such a thing would be for him to acknowledge that the trivial world had any kind of hold on him, a claim to attachment through that single emotion. Emotion that he himself did not seem to possess, but could hardly begin to understand- only analyze, interpret, bend as the occasion called for in order to interpret his will. Or to mold, the malleable wills of those around him.

No- this gaze was different. This gaze wasn't like that. This gaze was…before it, he was a waste of space- but a necessary tribulation dealt with in order to survive. No…before this gaze, he was nothing. Nothing. But now?

He smiled into the rim of his cup, breathing deeply of its flavor, breathing deeply of some small victory which even he refused to admit before those impossibly cold eyes. He tried to keep his voice light, casual- were they not brethren? Were they not comrades? He could beg to differ- that theirs was a relationship formed out of desperation and necessity, by some twisted ideal that somehow they deserved to live, that they had earned the right to life- to happiness, to joy- to love. Idly he wondered- what would Ulquiorra have to say about that?

"I just figured I'd drop in and inform you of something that I'm sure will tickle your fancy. Our Grimmjow had a run in with the shinigami today. Apparently things got rather messy. And…well…I figured I'd take it upon myself to seek your guidance. You are the one most apt at handling such things. But- pardon me- you seem rather…distracted. Have you found yourself in a predicament perhaps?"

There was an impossible silence- he dared not glance up from the rim of his cup, stifling his smile of malice and madness. He could hardly belief the depth of his own impertinence at times- and at others it was wholly justified. Was he not madness? He was almost proud of the fact that he stayed true to his namesake.

"Octavia." And the voice was smooth and dark, and cold like the pit. A tremor of fear raced down his spine that was nothing short of exhilarating. And he remembered, yes he did…this was why. The reason. No one else could make him recall vividly, that single trace of humanity, the only one that remained. It was-

"I grow weary of this game."

"Game? I beg your pardon? I am merely concerned for the constitution of my dear, dear brethren- it is rare indeed for anything to capture your attention, I just thought perhaps-"

And then those eyes were upon him, that form was upon him, and he could not escape. He hadn't even seen him move, hadn't seen him- but that was part of the fun, part of the thrill. One never knew, one was never prepared- and yet one could anticipate, one could plan. That was part of the game, the sick game he played, lacking in power, superior only in wit and cunning. This was how he lived.

"Do not play me for a fool. It is a thin line you tread. I know not your motive, nor what you hope to gain, but you will cease such actions. You will refrain from engaging the onna again. If I find out otherwise, you will pay dearly."

He smiled into his cup. "My oh my…how could I forget. Your inferring skills are impeccable. Very well…no point in toying around any longer. Just think of it for a moment…if you will. Why not be gentle to her hmm? Why not…make her your lover? _Why not-?_"

He paused briefly, thinking of those open, grey eyes, vulnerability etched into the lines of her body, that body that seduced men, and yet that body she carried with that awkward grace of one who had not yet discovered the delectable fruit that was the pleasures of the flesh. He thought of that smile, that foolish idiotic smile of peace and purity, of happiness, of joy at a life lived, and a life lived well. He thought of that, of the difference in years, in experience, in knowledge, in mentality, in understanding and perception of the world. He thought of that night when that girl with the sun kissed skin had been held, limply, in those cold pallid arms. He almost laughed aloud. And he knew that once he started, the laughter would not stop, not until his tongue also lay squirming at his feet, his mouth black with blood.

He'd told that 'other' that this they could permit- the foolish love of one girl, a love that was far beyond the grasp of her feeble hands. For love? _Ha!_ Love was only part of it, love was only a small insignificant part of the whole that made it all worthwhile, love was the vice that led the lamb to the lion's den, love was the means to the inevitable end, a necessary component required for their survival. He had never thought that this alone, this foolish whim he'd possessed, would have ever turned out to be so profitable a risk- and yet- like a fool, this Onna with whom they both played would inevitably be the key.

Sometimes he wondered if perhaps, he'd finally surpassed the reasonable limit of madness- but it was too late now. Far too late. He never made bets, he never made promises on which he could not deliver.

He calmed himself, staring still into the rim of his cup, wondering if his madness had been perceived in the depths of the dark liquid within. He placed the cup down on the table before him, drawing his gaze upward slowly so that he had a full view of Ulquiorra standing before him. His hands were shoved into his pockets, that languid tenseness to his loose shoulders, the perfect straight line of his back. In the crisp white collared shirt, only the inky black hair and emerald eyes leaped out from the sea of white behind him. His face was like a clean slate. If he thought that alone would be enough- he could now see for himself that it would take far more than that to move the stone that was Ulquiorra.

He lowered his voice, nearly purring out the words, slowly and carefully, the electric light glinting off of his wire framed glasses. Carefully, carefully…

"Surely…the idea is not so unpleasant? Is she not beautiful? Is she not innocent? Can you not imagine it? How wonderful she would taste? How pleasurable it would be to watch those dove grey eyes darken with despair? Come now- is it not in your nature? She is just ripe for misery- just ripe for-"

"Nonsense." That face did not waver. But those eyes…were elsewhere, the body, the mouth going through the motions of denial, but those eyes…and mad as he was, he was not one to give up so easily. Pausing for a moment to let the word settle between them, he cautiously tried again.

"…are you not curious? The purity of such a soul is wholly unheard of- surely it would be worthwhile-"

"No." His voice was firm. "Enough of my time has been wasted on your games. There are far more pressing matters than the trifling heart of one onna. There is still the matter of Grimmjow's altercation."

He cursed quietly under his breath. A slight miss step. It would have been wiser and far more productive for his-their- agenda if he had withheld that information until the innate curiosity within him, as well as the thrill of the game, had been resolved. Now wholly aware of the tangent on which he found himself, he placed his hand back around the tea cup, taking a few irritated sips as Ulquiorra's mind began to analyze.

"The altercation could have resolved itself in one of two ways. One- Grimmjow, true to his nature, and riled by some yet indefinable cause- perhaps some manner of taunt or implication- did not turn from the challenge. In which case, he would have revealed himself, and in his folly, believed himself capable of handling the shinigami on his own. Consequently, this would have resulted in either his immediate death or capture, in which case the possibility would present itself that we will be immediately extricated from hiding. Option two would only be plausible if one assumes that Grimmjow has some manner of tact and self preservation not only for himself but for his comrades, and the ability to swallow his pride. In which case, he would have either surrendered, or fled. Option One, while undesired and conflicting with our current objective, is far more probable."

Perturbed at the direction the conversation had turned, he leaned back into the couch, frowning inwardly with displeasure. The new leather crackling beneath his weight- he had probably been the first to use it. For now this was enough- he was uncertain whether progress had been made, and he would never be so presumptuous as to assume that he had even achieved anything. But for the moment, he would let it rest. For now.

"How little faith you have in your comrade. Despite your beliefs, I can attest to the fact that Grimmjow is perhaps not so thick headed and incompetent as you believe. I'll give him the hint of doubt. Considering the fact that we haven't been uprooted yet- and it has been a couple of hours now- I'm willing to bet on Option Two. In such case, why would he have not immediately returned to inform us of what happened?"

"Pride. The very notion that he withheld himself from a battle simply for the sake of others who would be negatively influenced by his actions would not only displease him, but rouse his anger. In a temperamental state, one can assume that at this very moment he is releasing this misplaced aggression in the vilest way imaginable."

He chuckled at the thought, easily imagining Grimmjow storming through town, knocking the hell out of everyone that crossed his path, kicking puppies, eating kittens, pushing kids into rush hour traffic- the idea had merit. His spirit momentarily amused, he returned to reality, taking another sip of his now lukewarm tea.

"Point made. However…couldn't a variety of our problems be resolved if we simply killed the shinigami? This town was built in a high traffic area for hollows, and coupled with the nature of the humans who reside here make them perfect targets not only for feeding, but for becoming hollows themselves. Considering the rapidly increasing number of hollows that regularly frequent this place, the death of one novice shinigami and his powerless benefactor would surely be readily accepted and easily overlooked. Grimmjow or Nnoitra- I myself would surely be more than enough."

There was a slight pause- and he could almost hear Ulquiorra's mind beginning to plan- one, two, three steps ahead- for an answer that would put them in the least amount of danger.

"That would leave a margin of error that would be less than favorable. We have yet to take in account the present level of things within soul society, and whether or not they are currently within a time of turbulence or peace. If the increasing level of hollows is keeping them occupied, such an option would be implemented. However, since we are unaware of the nature of things, there still remains the fact that such a hasty action would only draw the eye of soul society, which we cannot afford. Therefore, the safest alternative is that they must draw the eye themselves, with their own incompetence."

He snorted, tossing his head back and downing the remainder of his cup, relishing the last of it even though he could barely taste it.

"That is beginning to seem more and more unlikely, considering they've been able to somehow hide this from soul society for this long as it is…"

"The arrangement has merely worked itself out thus- Rukia Kuchiki has been able to still receive orders from soul society. Ichigo Kurosaki has been implementing them in her place. From the eyes of Soul Society, as long as the influx hollow levels are kept at a manageable level, all is well. There has yet to be a hollow too powerful for Ichigo Kurosaki to handle. In which case, a third option now presents itself."

He raised an eyebrow skeptically, leaning forward in his seat curiously.

"A third option? What exactly?"

"In which case we use this altercation to turn the tides in our favor."

"Is that so? You've thought this far ahead have you…for how long?"

"From the very moment that I realized the nature of the so called shinigami, the sun had already set in our hands."

He felt the smile creeping across his face- a vile, fanged thing kept for reserve, for things just like this. For plotting, for deceit, for lies and murder. He smiled, hastily covering the horrid thing with his gloved hand. It wasn't beautiful like that girl's smile- his was horrific in its nature, another manifestation of his madness. He stood up slowly, leisurely, bowing fluidly at the waist, grinning malevolently down at the floor.

"Cuatro, I am at your command."

* * *

She had not slept that night.

Or at least- she couldn't recall 'sleeping'- a thing done restlessly, filled with tossing and turning, clenched fists that had ripped her thin sheet in two beneath her. It was a thing done with a grinding and gnashing of teeth, that had torn her pillow from the force of her biting- biting done to muffle her screams. A thing that had soaked her pillow, drenched it in bitter tears. No- sleep was a thing better done in peace, filled with carefree dreams of foolish girls and their hopeless wishes.

Those dreams had been filed with cold handed demons, violating her, raping her.

There was no peace, no resolution, and surely nothing as foolish as love.

She contemplated the day, already beginning, the sun peeking from between her blinds. She contemplated the day just as she was, just as she'd fallen onto her bed, stripped down to the traitorous flesh, stripped down and vulnerable, naked. Stripped down to the filthy core of her, because she was a traitor, a whore and a liar.

Because…for all it hurt her, for all it hurt, for all of that she still-

She still-

And she threw her head back, the motion swinging her hair through the rays of morning light, causing them to shine. And she thought of those eyes in that moment, those ancient emeralds at the bottom of some deep murky pit, those emeralds that she had to find, wading through the filth of years, the dredge of life that had coated them black. And she wanted to find them and make them shine. She wanted to find them and-

-And there was no resolution. And she was a traitor, a whore, a liar, the betrayer, the shade, she was- because- and she almost hated herself-

-because there was that part of herself that had loved him, a part of herself that still loved him and-

-because there was a wicked, wicked part of herself that….

….And that was the part of herself she hated. The part of herself she loathed. Why? _Why?_ Humiliating, degrading, those cold hands had dispassionately embraced her in that intimate way- there had been no love, no kindness, nothing but the cold and despair. Was it because it had been him? Did she grant allowances because it was him? Why him? Again, _again-!_

It was that back, that perfectly straight back. It was that grace. It was those hands. It was that cold, dispassionate gaze.

And he was the only one who had no qualms about breaking her. He was the only one that didn't try to protect her from the rest of the world, he was the only one who didn't try to blind her to its horror, to its reality. He was constantly shoving it in her face, shoving it down her throat, shoving it into her soul. There was no mercy from him, no pity. There was no overly zealous kindness, no constant worry or questioning, no hovering- rather, she was the one who had to get close to him. She was the one who had to show him what kindness meant, what mercy meant, what love meant. For the first time- she felt right teaching someone else, showing someone else. Rather than being the one coddled, pitied, smothered, stifled, instead…was this.

This cold, empty love…and a sad smile flitted across her face when she realized that this pathetic love was one she wouldn't exchange for anything else in the world. It was all hers. When even she, and everything about her, her life, her goals, her desires, her well being began to feel like public property, she would think of this love and smile.

In her perfectly ordered life- popularity, beauty, spontaneity, everything that she was- was not only a given, but a right.

She practically expected everyone to love her, to like her, to like the her that smiled and laughedand shared herself with all equally- and yet the her that she never showed, the loner, the insecure coward- was the one that felt right being owned, being viciously claimed without mercy or love. These two sides of herself were in such conflict- because that outer Orihime was suited for that strawberry, that knight in shining armor- and yet that raw girl inside, with all her faults and flaws only wanted to be devoured.

And where did she stand? Where? Like crossing a field covered in land mines, would her next step be the end of her? How much more could she take? How much more? How much more until she was annihilated completely? When would this end? With this?

And she hated herself…because she didn't want this to end. And the sooner she realized that, the more miserable she knew she could be. Maybe this would only get worse. Maybe next time she wouldn't make it. She had once believed she was strong, once believed that for the first time in a long time, that she was strong enough to do this. But…and she covered her face and turned away from the light. She didn't feel worthy of it anymore.

* * *

She went to school.

It was the first time in a long time, that she hadn't worn her customary attire, her simple skirt and collared button down, a staple she'd come to depend on in high school. For the first time, the very first time, she didn't feel like a little girl anymore. She wore a skirt- the shortest she owned, a checkered thing, a blazer and a simple tank. The waves in her hair shone as she maneuvered the halls- and people noticed. Like never before, girls eyed her with blatant envy, no longer stifled but intense and raw now, their faces contorted, their noses upturned. The guys eyed her so viciously she felt as if their gazes could slice her into pieces, for them to divvy up and share amongst themselves. She heard the whispers-the barely suppressed murmurs of shock and awe. It was really such a trivial thing- all she'd done was change her style of dress- but to them, to most of them- that was what had made her. Simple, good natured, loved, adored- it was strange to think how much of her identity had been wrapped up in her attire.

She felt uncomfortable- an uncanny awareness of the breeze ghosting along the backs of her thighs and bare legs and running through the strands of her hair making her think of hands- and thinking of those hands, those hands-

She felt her abdomen tighten and something hot and warm seeped into the very core of her. She couldn't understand it herself- she smiled awkwardly as she maneuvered the halls, waving when appropriate, hesitantly explaining her absence in her wake. Just a cold. Nothing too bad. Sure, she could help her classmate with her project, she was awesome with presentation! Sure, she wouldn't mind showing him how to do that problem later. Sure, she'd find time to hang out with them, it had been awhile right? The promises she'd made, once wholeheartedly because she believed them herself enough, seemed empty and hollow in her throat now. Fake. She didn't feel real. She felt like a doll, a puppet, going through the motions, doing the same old dance, just like-

"Orihime!"

She paused, the name sounding foreign even in her own ears. That name, said so happily, with so much joy, felt as if it belonged to a stranger. She looked over her shoulder warily, unsure- and was nearly bowled over by the small boned girl with inky black hair who ferociously attacked her. Her laughter came easily, naturally- that at least, she could still do relatively well.

"Tatsuki!"

"Where the hell have you been? I've been calling you nonstop since yesterday! You've never been one to just up and miss a day's worth of classes without a moment's notice, no one know where you were, for god's sake Orihime what if you'd been in danger? Do you know how many people you worried? It's already bad enough you live off campus, you can't just up and pull stunts like that! Were you sick? Are you hurt anywhere? Are you feeling better? In fact, you look a little pale and- and…? Wait…what the hell?"

The small girl paused in her verbal assault to stand back, staring Orihime up and down with a wary expression and a crinkle in her brow. Her gaze narrowed, and an almost disgusted look came upon her face. Orihime felt her throat close up suddenly, constricting so tightly that she coughed into her palm, giving her an excuse to look down, and feel the fade happening as she stared at her feet, her hands tightening around her binder. Tatsuki's voice broke the haze, sharp.

"The fuck? Orihime you look like-"

Suddenly desperate, Orihime raised her head and interjected, twirling around hurriedly with an anxious smile, noticing out of the corner of her eye the way a few boys chatting in the hall pause to watch the material skirt around her thighs.

"What do you think Tatsuki? Cute right? And I'm really sorry about yesterday, I just was feeling too distracted to come to school, you know how I get sometimes, and this morning I just thought I'd do something different you know? I always did wear pretty much the same thing so I figured 'Hey! Let's change things up every now and then right? I mean it's not that I-" She stumbled, already caught in the lie. 'It's not like I changed.' She had.

"Orihime." Tatsuki's voice was firm and set. "You look like one of those stuck up cheerleader bitches. And don't give me no bullshit that you're into that stereotype."

Tatsuki sighed, a frustrated and an almost agonized expression on her face as she tore her eyes from the suddenly wounded expression in the depth of Orihime's grey eyes. She cursed, running her hand through her hair, stumbling over the words that had choked in her throat. But then she remembered the way those guys had looked at Orihime when she walked by and she set her mouth in a tight line.

"It's just…this isn't like you Orihime. This…doesn't seem real, not like the Orihime I know. Compared to that girl, this seems so…fake."

And Orihime felt as if a fist had been balled up, and slammed into her stomach, a cruel blow that nearly crippled her. She blinked hastily, suddenly thankful that Tatsuki had her head turned, her eyes wandering elsewhere. Because- silly her- for a moment, her vision blurred. She blinked hastily, quickly tucking her head in an embarrassed manner.

"Yeah…maybe you're right I'm sorry I should have known something like this wouldn't suit me right?…I just…class I….I have to get to class. I'll see you later Tatsuki."

And she ran, so Tatsuki wouldn't see the rapidly budding tears in her eyes.

'It hadn't seemed like her' she'd said. This was' fake', this 'wasn't real'- but how would Tatsuki know? How could Tatsuki say that so easily, when she herself couldn't even begin to tell anymore? That inner and outer Orihime seemed so entwined now, she could no longer begin to tell the difference-so why? Without the struggle, without the slightest hesitation, Tatsuki could lit into her, just like- just like-

-and she thought of green eyes, she thought of emeralds in the dark, and she was torn between the desire to leave, to leave and never return and to go, to go as close as she could, and she didn't know she didn't know, she didn't-

"Arr joo alwight?"

She jumped, hastily scrubbing at the tears in her eyes before anymore could spill over. She turned around with a weary smile, staring into the worried face of Nel. She stood just behind her in a green dress that only seemed to emphasize the thick waves of her hair, of the same unique color. And leaning against the side of the wall was Harribel- her blue eyes striking against the mahogany hue of her skin, and the electric shock of her blond hair. As usual, the bottom portion of her face was hidden by her high collar, and her lean abdomen was exposed by the half shirt she wore that would have easily gotten her expelled had they been still in high school.

With some small degree of shock she realized that she'd run straight into one of the bathrooms on the hall. And then she remembered that Nel was still peering curiously into her face, her eyes wide and inquiring.

"Um yes! I'm fine! I just um- had something in my eye, I just had to get it out you know, I mean it was only a small thing, no biggie, just a-"

As she spoke, Nel's face drew closer to her own, and her words screeched to a halt as Nel's soft hands came to clasp the sides of her face, and stunned she froze as Nel drew her face upwards and blew gently into both of her eyes. Behind them, Harribel shifted silently, her cold blue gaze drawing over to rest on hers. She blinked, hastily, still stunned as Nel smiled with obvious pleasure and dropped her hands, backing away.

"Awl bettur?"

She nodded dumbly, the strangest urge welling in her gut to spill it all right then, to up and tell the older girl everything right then. It was the strangest, most unexplainable feeling- as if she only said everything, told everything- everything would be alright- because she had no reason to worry, she had no reason to worry all she needed was- the truth, she was right for this, she was- she paused, shaking her head from side to side, her mind- a jumbled mess that she had yet to understand.

"Y-Yes thank you I appreciate it I- I'll see you guys later okay?"

She hurriedly left the bathroom, wondering at the muddled state of her mind.

* * *

"You're interfering. It is not our right to get involved."

She smiled leisurely, sighing wordlessly with pleasure as she placed her hands against her own face, distraught at the warmth rapidly disappearing from her palms, in light of the returning cold. Experimentally, she clenched and unclenched her small fists, and yet- cold they would remain. After that sun kissed flesh had been beneath them, for one foolish, agonizing moment she had prayed for that warmth to remain. To stay with her, beneath her palms, warming them- and yet she knew the foolishness of prayer, the futility of prayer when you were one such as she- without hope, devoid of the right to claim one's own happiness, not when you robbed others of theirs. It was pointless to even dream, she knew. She knew. And yet…

"…she was so warm." She murmured half-heartedly, unconsciously pleading once more for that peculiar warmth to grace her hands. "Her soul was. For a human…it was…"

"Now…you understand." The words were softly spoken- for once, there was no edge to them. Only a mutual understanding.

She lowered her hands from her face, her gaze drawn slowly around the bathroom, the empty stalls, the glass mirrors on the wall, the clean tiles of the floor. Her eyes met the eyes of the doppelganger in the mirror, the eyes solemn and wise…and weary. So weary. She nodded silently, her mind a subtle murmur now, the only distracting thought now merely that of returning to that jumbled mess of her daily life lived. But it was a small price to pay- and she was strong enough to bear it without complaint. They had all made their sacrifices- and she would be thankful that hers had not been as crippling as some. She turned away from those somber eyes in the mirror, pensive as she met the eyes of her brethren.

"Now I understand…why she's special…the aspects of death ingrained into our very souls, the mark of our sins that warns even the least spiritually observant human away from us- she is immune to it. She did not fall prey to Nnoitra's despair. She did not cower before Grimmjow's destruction. And even my own self-righteousness, the most tame of them all-"

"She was not affected." That other woman interjected smoothly, gracefully lifting her frame from the wall in order to better observe her half. Nel's eyes were dark, contemplative- wearing a fragile smile that was not laced with displeasure as she had expected- but pity.

"So this is Syazel's plan…I see…" the sadness in her voice was tangible. Harribel sighed- she had already resigned herself to this. What became of the girl for the moment, had nothing to do with them. She turned, beckoning to Nel with a tilt of her head.

"…The time is approaching, and we have parts to play."

As the power diminished, rapidly fading back into the core of the hollow shell in which she resided, she sighed, as once more, the veil lowered over her consciousness. And once more those eyes narrowed with that insightful intelligence widened into a glance filled with childlike innocence, a wide grin plastered over her face as she hurried to follow.

* * *

She felt terrible. No she didn't. But she should. And that's what was pissing her off. She felt accomplished, proud- once again, without the slightest bit of effort, she'd successfully managed to sway Orihime with but a few words.

She just….she just...she wanted to tell her, to tell that girl with the grey eyes and the inviting smile.

Don't look so cute!

Don't be so stupid!

'_When you look so cute people notice, and…when people notice they might…try to take you away. And if they tried to take her away-'_

To Tatsuki, the thought was far too horrible to think of, even in her imagination. And she would sacrifice anything- her pride, her dignity, her all- to make sure nothing like that ever happened. It wouldn't happen. Couldn't happen. That bastard she 'supposedly liked…fuck him. Fuck him. It wasn't like he would ever like her back. Orihime could do whatever she wanted if it made her happy, as long as he didn't care as long as he didn't notice- as long as nothing changed.

But she was the one being stupid, she was the being the asshole, the jack ass, the bastard. She was the one- love. This one sided affair that the ginger haired girl she loved the most in the world- she would never know. Could never know. And it was because of that- that rage balled up into a fist and slammed her in the abdomen repeatedly, anxiety knotting in her stomach, making chest pangs rattle her body. This was getting too serious. And If things were like this-

-she grinned to herself, a cold, callous thing, bitter, hiding the pain.

-maybe it was about time she met this guy for herself. And make him suffer in the way only a woman scorned could.

* * *

This was going to be another long fucking day.

He'd known in part because he woke up pissed like he hadn't been in fucking ages. Just thinking about the previous day, when he'd rolled over, ran away from the fight he'd been looking forward to since he'd came to this damn place- like some _little bitch_- he cursed aloud. He didn't know what the fuck this had to do with anything, but- hell it gave him something to do at least- he was hardly smart enough to see these things through, so he didn't question orders. Especially not when that green eyed bastard was the one giving them.

Cursing anew under his breath, he lifted the hollow from his back, throwing it viciously into the growing pile. That should've been the last of them. They were all hideous, deformed monstrosities, their masks and forms varying according to the nature of the hollow and the degree of the sin. Some of them thrice his size- othersmerely overgrown rats. He frowned in distaste looking at them, with the abnormal number of limbs and appendages that they possessed – and the masks- he scoffed aloud. He almost couldn't believe that he used to look like that. The thought displeased him more than he cared to admit and he hurried to spit to physically release the distracting thought, the notion itself helped to comfort him- he, who was rarely comforted. Spitting, a habit he had only developed recently, seemed to be the only way he was able to deal with these kinds of things. He'd done his part for now. They could handle the fucking rest.

He turned as Nnoitra entered the clearing, and he nearly smothered his smile- until he remembered Nnoitra couldn't do shit about it, so he grinned away.

"What do you know? Can you talk yet?"

Nnoitra frowned at him- and at the very least his arm was back, to the point where he gave his blue eyed brethren the middle finger as maliciously as could be allowed. He lifted the hollow from his own back, and he too threw it onto the pile with a slight grunt of effort, his eyes grazing with appreciation over the mass of hollows they had managed to collect. He grinned with a pleasure that was practically inhuman, which he didn't mind considering he was as far removed from human as one could be.

"I'll take that as a no. Ah well…there's at least thirty of these bitches in here, so that should be more than enough. We'll see soon enough though won't we?"

His eyes drifted upwards, the blue of the sky nearly blinding him. The mixture of sun and sky made his eyes wince- he had never been one to appreciate things of unparalleled beauty, beauty he could neither condemn nor hate. They all had their peculiarities, that marked them- living with the physical proof of their sins wasn't enough, living hunted wasn't enough- to never be at peace, to never be content- to always hate or rage, or lust or destroy- it wasn't that he felt he deserved such a small happiness as being able to appreciate a sunny day like those other stupid people he dealt with at that hell hole. Hardly- just the thought alone disturbed him. Something so small and insignificant- hell, he'd probably find some way to ruin that too.

With a bitter taste in his mouth he snapped his gaze away from the sky, and spit as soon as he had drawn the breath. It was with a mutter and a curse that he realized this time, that the feeling wouldn't leave him so easily. And it was all so fucking stupid, that stupid feeling, because there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Never had been, never would be. And it was all so stupid and pointless and meaningless, all of this shit- to survive and live- for what? For whom? For what reason did he even do any of this? Hell, everyone would be better off they were dead, and what kind of life was this anyway?

The same shit, different day- and he was pissed before he knew it, pissed because he'd thought of that fucking sky overhead that he couldn't even appreciate, and it brought to mind some stupid bitch who'd been too dumb to run away- and he was cursing before he knew it, and Nnoitra was staring at him wordlessly, looking at him as if **he **were the one going mad, as if **he** were the one with fucking problems.

"_**Don't you fucking look at me like that Nnoitra! I'll take more than your fucking tongue!"**_And it was stupid cause he wasn't even pissed at Nnoitra, he wasn't even pissed at that tongue less rapist bastard, he was pissed at everything and everyone, suddenly overwhelmed with a violence so senseless, so uncontrollable, so devastating that it was taking everything in his power not to annihilate, not to destroy, not to induce chaos and mayhem. It was taking everything within him to not ruin every single fucking one of them, to finally end this, fuck the consequences he'd rather die fighting than suffer in this silence- underhandedly, like some fucking coward.

He spit with such vehemence that Nnoitra wisely backed away, and he didn't imagine the sweat he saw trailing leisurely down between those narrowed eyes- and it made him laugh wildly at the thought of it- and just like that, just like that he was himself again.

"I'm just fucking around with you Nnoitra, you know I like to watch you shit your pants."-and he hadn't been fucking around. For one moment, he could have balled his hand into a fist and-"We've done our part, can't let that bastard just think we're all buddy buddy just cause of this- let's get the hell out of here, they got the rest of this shit."

And he didn't dare look at the sky again-he was an idiot about a lot of things, but the depths of his madness wasn't one of them. He knew he was going to flip the fucking rocker one of these days- hell they all knew- but today wasn't it. Grinning impishly as he stuffed his hands into his pockets- he almost regretted it.

* * *

From up here he mused- this city did not seem quite as imposing, as filthy or detestable. He supposed from the height at which he stood- a good few stories up- all cities looked like this. Sprawling out before him like a map- the buildings shrunken in size, the people insignificant little specks-this was how it should be. He would have liked a giant magnifying glass- it would have been amusing to concentrate the beams of that sun far above onto those scurrying specks below- watching them shrivel and burn. It would be quite an amusing past time- surely one worth investing it, with as much time as he possessed behind him and before him.

His eyes watched from above from behind golden frames, wordlessly noting the projected point of entry above, calculating the time required, the degree of effort involved- and silently his eyes strayed to the form of his companion, a blur against the skyline.

'_As impassive as ever'- _he noted, those emerald eyes as well were trained above- and he didn't even need to be a maniacal genius to understand what was going on behind that emotionless gaze. He shook his arm loose, casually rolling back the sleeve of his lab coat in order to check the time- ah yes- by now, Grimmjow and Nnoitra would have completed their task, and classes would be ending, so Nel and Harribel could complete things on their end. And idly he noted that in another half hour's time his break would be over and he would be expected to return to work. But it was with a small smile of satisfaction that he noted that things would be long since over by then.

"Ulquiorra, it's time." He wondered at the cheerful edge to his voice- strange only because this was hardly the time to be cheerful- surely this was a time to be pensive, anxious- if this were not done properly, there was every possibility that this plan could just as easily turn against them. However that idea was nothing short of laughable.

Ulquiorra did not move- his gaze completely transfixed and focused on some point beyond the reach of human sight, some point in a time beyond time- a point that only he could see.

He adjusted his glasses on his face almost eagerly, noting idly that his hand trembled. And why not? It had been such a long time- a very long time. If he were correct- as he often was- not since the time of Crossover had they attempted such. After all, such things were easily noted, and just as easily tracked. However considering the act they were about to attempt, that would be highly unlikely. And he drew his gaze downwards, to the bait, and upwards- to the point- the point in the sky- and he saw it. He blinked at the noticeable bulge, at the noticeable ripple in the fabric of reality. And he grinned like mad, like a little boy on Christmas, like a maniac who hardly contain the thrill of slaughter.

And Ulquiorra had seen it too, perhaps long before- because he had been expecting it, waiting for_ it. _And slowly, as if from underwater he freed one slender hand from his pocket, raised one lithe arm- and Syazel could hear his breathe coming in and out like mad, as if he even needed to breathe, as if- and those slender fingers snapped. And it all happened at once- the wind came hurtling at him, carrying a welcoming scent of sand and death, a familiar scent, of home. And the wind blew into his eyes, sulfur and brimstone burning his nostrils, and he snatched off his glasses to see with unrestrained eyes, as the sky folded from here to there outward, unfolding, opening wider and wider for-

-and he saw the first mammoth hand, clawed and white slowly reach out of that black rift in the sky, blacker than the space between the stars- and the second followed, grasping that opening, ripping it wider. And he saw- laughing before he knew he was laughing- as that pointed snout reached outward, as the soulless mask of the behemoth followed, the eyes red with hellfire, the jaws tapered shut, the head of a body made of night. And the sight of that monster of monsters, rifting through a hole in the fabric of reality, crossing over from that hell to this haven was so beautiful that he felt tears in his eyes.

Giddy with glee and madness he ran to the edge of the building, and he gladly would have thrown himself down, dashing his pathetic shell against the ground, if he could have become a part of that magnificence. And as if in a dream he spoke aloud, seeing nothing but that glorious sight, of that beast breaking through the sky.

"Ah Ulquiorra can't you see how beautiful it is? How wondrous it is? The size of it! The power! It's perfect, absolutely perfect- a Menos Grande."

Excitement pulsed through his blood, thrilling him, giving him a subtle taste of that life once lived in such vast amounts that it nearly overcame him. He could remember it all, all of it-! The white palace, the impenetrable fortress, their supreme lord, their boundless gifts. The war, the battle, the blood, the victory- that should have been theirs, that should have belonged to them, and yet- and yet-_**and yet!-**_ and then madness seized him so suddenly he couldn't breathe, seized him so suddenly he felt his throat cave and his chest heave. And just as suddenly, the feeling that had momentarily left him crippled- faded. He straightened himself, a quivering hand pushing back the sweaty bangs that had stuck to his forehead.

Ignorant fool that he was! How close he'd come! They had to be careful, they couldn't afford too much of this- this was the human world- and to fall prey to those sins that had been ingrained into the very fabrics of their souls could prove disastrous. Rattled at the thought of how close he'd almost come to being released from this hollow shell due to him being unable to restrain himself, was one that made him shudder. Such hollow like inclinations were not suited for this mortal plane- should he ever get too caught up in his own madness- if any of them for a moment forgot themselves- it could be the end of them all.

He hurried to compose himself- and then remembered. Had _he_ as well-? With a twinge of something that was hardly pity, he turned his gaze to that man, still standing still- and his emerald gaze had turned away from the sight of that monster they had summoned, his back to Syazel. And it was a strange, strange feeling- knowing that he was almost afraid to ask.

"Ulquiorra? Are you-?"

And there was the customary silence- but in that was-

-And his eyes trailed down that lithe form, and it was with a sick, sick horror that he realized that one of those pale hands hanging limply by his side was no longer human. Black as night, the pale fingers replaced with long, viciously clawed talons. Syazel felt the breath clog his throat.

Ulquiorra raised the hand before his face for a moment in silent reflection, surveying the change.

"Hmph. I see. The summoning required the use of more reiatsu than I had originally calculated. Very well. Octavia- you will oversee things from here."

And that head turned ever so slightly, so that those eyes could see him, could make sure he understood. And he held back the terror when he realized that the once normally emerald eyes that could cut through to the core of him, had mellowed into a fading amber. He was reverting.

A part of him had seen this coming. A selfish part of him had wanted to blame that green eyed man- surely they had all seen this coming- how could they have not predicted it? He alone refused to feed on mortal souls- he alone satisfied himself with only hollow ones, and to sate them for any brief period of time, the odds of finding one powerful enough to sate him were few and far in between. The rest of them made do with quantity over quality- but he alone just- Syazel gritted his teeth, nearly severing his tongue.

Damn him and his pride! _Damn him, damn him, damn him!_

If he would only feed as they did-! And yet he still held to those ancient principles! But he smothered the cry of outrage, muffled it beneath his breath. It was fine. It was fine. It was fine. Things would soon workout in his favor. It had taken time, much time- but no matter. For all his power, at times like this their current head could become a liability they couldn't afford to lose. But no matter- it wouldn't be long now. It hadn't taken as much effort on his part- and yet still things would work out well. That girl…would soon see to that. Thanks to that purity, thanks to that innocence- she would be the reassurance he needed- that they could yet live.

He supposed, if nothing else, he should be somewhat thankful. It wouldn't be long now. The call- it made a shiver run down his spine just thinking of it. He had never heard Ulquiorra's for himself- he couldn't have honestly, not when he was so adamant at refusing to feed from those beings he labeled as filth. And he nearly smothered the sadistic smirk on his lips, as he nodded his compliance.

What was the life of one girl- however pure- compared to the damned lives of ten?

Living was a process fraught with cruelty- surely she would understand that. Tonight, he mused, he would get a drink. Zonmari wouldn't have to wait much longer. And- he smiled- there was yet another matter...

* * *

_-"In love with him you say? How foolish these mortals have grown! What manner of woman would dare to love a monster?"_

"_Times have changed since you have last seen the outside world you know, it's not as uncommon as you would believe. These human women are easy prey for monsters clothed in the flesh of men, and mortal ones as well."_

"_Hmph. You may be mad, but you were never a romantic. Surely there is more to this affair than you are telling me."_

"_My, my…who says you only get more forgetful and fumbling with old age? Centuries aside, you are as sharp as ever…well…I have no fear that you will reveal anything I disclose to you, especially given your…predicament. Shame. Perhaps you would have enjoyed it, this world…"_

"_How naïve. I have walked this earth twice over, I have ruled as a mortal, I have died a hero, I was reborn a monster, I ruled as a king, and I was conquered like a weakling. This is my fate boy. Surely you are not one so foolish as to think a more promising fate awaits the rest of you? Ha! Surely this is what you fear the most? You and all the others- fear of the curse creeping upon you, devouring you. The destruction, the arrogance, the despair, the sacrifice, the madness…since I have been indisposed it seems that you have grown pathetic."_

"…_you…weren't nearly this talkative a moment ago. And you would do well to mind your words sometimes you old fool, lest I abandon you to your fate like all the others. We can hardly be bothered with a dusty skeleton barely holding onto his putrid soul. You can't even defend yourself, therefore it would be wise to hold your tongue before I decide to put you out of your misery. "_

"_I've lived thrice the age of the lot of you. How dare you think I have fallen so low as to fear death? If it were not for you and your confounded silence, I would be rotting away in the abyss, preferable to living in hiding, with only the company of a coward."_

"_And it was that very arrogance…that has led you to this."_

"…_Speak, lest I rot even further with all of this idle banter."_

"…_very well I shall comply with you for now…you know that the Primera has lost his mind to his loneliness. He too…squanders away this life that we have found….rotting. Just like you. He only differs in that prior to our establishing ourselves in this place, he took it upon himself to leave us."_

"_Hmph. Loneliness is hardly a sin worth suffering for. He always was weak…I figured it wouldn't be long after the death of his half that the curse would be upon him and drive him mad. I'm sure the fool is living among the weak like he always desired…killing them in the process."_

"_I believe he has taken up the life of a wanderer. I know not where he has gone. And the power originally belonging to the Tres, Harribel, prior to the crossover has somehow been equally divided between her and Nel once we made the decision to take her with us. Her being the former Tres, their souls battled for the right to keep that power as we were passing through the gate- resulting in this present situation. That said, neither one of them is presently equipped to lead. "_

"_And…?"_

"_I'm saying that presently, the only one in possession of enough power, will and intellect to keep us alive- is the Cuatro, Ulquiorra. Despite the limitations placed upon us in these human shells, he has managed to retain much of his power. I'm saying that he alone is our last line of defense, the only one in control of enough power to forego any threats souls society could place upon us. I'm saying that without him, we are as good as dead. And if there is nothing else that you can respect, it is power."_

"_Very well. Now…what does this really have to do with the girl?"_

"…_since the time of cross over, since the time of our arrival in the mortal world…Ulquiorra has refused to feed from mortal souls."_

"_What manner of fool would do such a foolish thing? Does he not know? In order for a hollow to survive and maintain the power to materialize in the mortal realm, they must consume the souls of humans- that is the rule, that is what we must do to survive, to forego such a thing is suicide!"_

"_I know as well as you, calm yourself and follow me on this- Ulquiorra hates mortals to the point where he would willingly forego sustenance, his very survival- for the sake of holding to this premise. I fear that since we entered this world- his curse had already set upon him. His hate is to the point that he cannot even feed. An admirable if foolish effort- I'm sure of us all he knows what could happen if he foregoes proper feeding much longer- his soul will dematerialize from the mortal realm- and with the current state of things, only the shinigami know where it could end up."_

"_I have never heard of such idiocracy!"_

"_-and, as I have said, without his guidance, it wouldn't be long before we too would perish. And because Ulquiorra refuses to acknowledge anything outside of himself, for all his claims that he would see to our well being until the return of the master, he honestly could care less if we died today. Now you see the present state of things. Ulquiorra is weary- to perish in the line of duty, holding true to his vow till the end- is more than enough for him. He has done this time and time again, he has suffered with this hate, he has dealt with the more blacker of sins- and he as been incapable of taking an interest in anything aside from his duty to our lord. He __**wants**__ to die. Whether he acknowledges it or not…he longs for the peace that death provides."_

"_A Hollow trying to die….well….it would not be the first time…"_

"_Believe me when I tell you- hollow's can have religion now. Surely anything is possible these days. Now perhaps you can see why this girl is so vital- in the entirety of his existence, love is a concept which has forsaken him. Love is an abstract ideal, a concept so foreign and profound that he could not begin to understand it, analyze it, or interpret it. He has never been one to cast away things that were of interest to him- and this onna is the greatest mystery he has ever had to solve. What is love? Why will she not forsake it? Why would she pursue it? No matter how much he pushes her away, why will she not abandon it? There is nothing to gain, there is nothing from which she can benefit- so what are her motives? And therein lies-"_

"_-The Heart. All that is needed to live."_

"_And if he will not live for us, he will live for that. To find the answers to those questions which he himself cannot grasp. And as long as she loves him, as long as her foolish heart yearns for him, she will be all that we need to ensure he keeps himself alive. And I couldn't have planned the rest any better- the summoning has roused his spiritual pressure to the forefront, and if he does not feed soon the hunger will drive him to madness. The call is being made- and she will answer it. And when she does…"_

"_When she does…?"_

"_Come now Barragan….surely I wouldn't want to spoil things for you so soon…but let's just say that a new addition to the family will soon be upon us."_

* * *

_A call._

It was the strangest feeling- she couldn't put a title to it, she couldn't name it or define it. To be perfectly honest, she didn't know when it came over her, what came over her. She couldn't explain it, she couldn't deny it, she couldn't redeem herself from it.

It wasn't even a sound- it wasn't a sound- it was-unrest in her spirit, a divide in her soul, and it unmade her, it broke her.

It was: night descending, closing on her, pitch black darkness that seized her in an icy grip before she could even scream, before she could even think against it- it had entrapped her, enslaved her. Dove grey orbs lost their sparkled as they faded to slate, her satchel falling from her suddenly limp hands. She never heard it hit the ground.

She missed it- she missed it in her stupor, missed it in her haze. The frantic look of panic on Rukia's face as she darted from the lab when she slowly drifted by. She missed it, the tense look etched into the lines of Ichigo's grim frown as he dashed past her, narrowly avoiding colliding with her. She missed it, Uryuu sprinting and gasping for breath as he darted from the library, her gaze empty as she stared blindly into the empty courtyard, watching Sado run off the track into the distance. She missed it.

She never made it to class.

Without the urgency, without the panic, devoid of fear, only the calm. She walked away from it all- the same as them- not sprinting but without looking back. She couldn't have known then, couldn't have foreseen then, the divergence of faith between the directions in which they ran.

There was not a single thought in her head, a single trace of free will. There was only need. _He needed her. He needed her now._ And that was all that mattered. Pulled, by that urgent need that she didn't have the power to deny, she went.

It wouldn't be long now.

* * *

_AN: Woah. Long time no see. But never fear my lovelies, I've written the next two chapters in advance so all is well! Life's been a bitch but never fear! Also, I haven't been able to reach my beta reader, so please excuse the crappy editing, hopefully I'm getting better.  
_

_That said, I'm having waaaay to much fun giving them problems. I just kind of figured hollows couldn't exactly live in the human world all willy nilly and not suffer for it, so I thought it'd be more interesting to make the 'sins of death' that the arrancar supposedly represent actually translate into real, pressing problems in the human world. And I like the notion of Syazel being this evil mastermind because you know he should've been one lol. Let me know what you think, because next chapter hime's going back into the lion's den! What's going to happen now? DUN DUN DUN. And a cookie to whom ever can figure out who Syazel's companion is in these side conversations. _

_Will next chapter be the long awaited Ulquiorra centric one? Or am I speaking merely lies and slander? And poor orihime just can't get a break...shame shame...  
_

_Thanks so much for all of the reviews, I'm keeping all of you in mind and I hope to see you guys next time!_


	8. Carnal Comprehension

**[A**_l__**iC**_e** I**n _C__h_**a**i_n**s]**_

_**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**_

_**[Carnal Comprehension]**_

* * *

_She didn't know what it was, what it was that drew her, that pulled her. She didn't know what it was that called her to him, unbidden- and she hated herself for it. She hated herself for it- but she went. There was no reason leading up to the decision, no thought, no will involved. Suffocated, smothered- her conscious devoured- and now prey to the will of something beyond her own control or volition. She went to him._

_She didn't remember the walk there- the blaring horns viciously honked by angry drivers, the annoyed yells of people she casually brushed aside- the curious banter of her land lady as she glided past, the creak in the stairwell as she walked upwards. She didn't feel the warmth of the mid morning sun on her back, nor the rustle of the wind as it swept through the lengths of her hair._

_His door- that physical barrier that kept him separated from the real world- cracked ever so slightly. The warmth of the sun she could not feel forsook her, and the cool darkness enveloped her as she walked in._

_The lights were off. She did not pause. Unhurried, unrushed- feeling curiously dead and devoid of any and everything- she went to him._

_The basement door was wide open, gaping, beckoning. The light was on, a beckon in the subdued dim of the darkened hall. She all but floated down the steps._

_He was sitting- some far off part of her mind told her she had never seen him sitting in the presence of anyone, let alone her. But there he was- sitting in a metal wrought chair, one hand hung limply, touching the floor. With something that was not quite shock, but quiet acceptance, she realized that very same hand could hardly be called so. Covered in a layer of smooth black, the fingers now long grasping talons, aching to rip her apart. Blindly, she noticed the long coiling stretch of black and steel draped around the floor. It whispered against the concrete as it moved, drawing away from her._

_She didn't speak- she couldn't. She was no longer Orihime, no longer even a sentient human being. She was-_

"… _I understand."_

_And instantaneously- she did too._

"…_how…fitting. Onna, you could not even begin to understand the forces at work around you. It would be foolish of me to attempt to educate you. However- inevitably it seems- 'fate'…"-said as if he himself was aware of the folly of believing in it-"…has conspired against you."_

_But she was wordless, formless. Unbidden- she drew closer. She drew closer and her hands, soft as silk, drew lightly over the expanse of the shoulders she so adored. She could feel his gaze- cold yet comforting- against her even though his face did not rise to meet hers._

"…_I will explain."_

_Warm hands- drifting around his neck, down the front of his chest, beneath the collar of his shirt. Ever so casually- around the hole that lay there like an open wound. She wasn't afraid. With a steady, marked curiosity, her hands mapped the outline of the pitch black circle, skirting its edges with a delicate wariness. Here was- contained power just below the surface and…tightly restrained madness. In this moment against him she-_

"_Regardless of my own volition, Murcialago it seems…has chosen you. Your soul has been branded- to thrive in the mortal world, it is not uncommon for hollows to feed from one mortal exclusively in order to avoid detection and sustain themselves for a short period of time. The reiatsu required to maintain this state has been depleted- as such, the call was instinctively made."_

_She wasn't afraid. Eyes black and empty, she allowed herself to feel him freely- hands tentatively smoothing along the expanse of his cold chest. It was a pleasure, a delicious pleasure- an almost instinctive, otherworldly desire to feel him- and be felt by him. To please him. Without the slightest hesitation- her life, her body, her everything- his to claim._

"_The call is often answered by weak willed mortals who are hardly worth savoring. The success of this process hinges on the mortal- their capacity for spiritual compatibility, the strength of their will and the degree to which they themselves have been exposed to that which is not of this world. Onna, this merely means that your soul willingly heeded the call. How absurd…you never did do as I intended."_

_Ever so carefully- her hands felt him, touched him- and she drew herself nearer to him. Unabashedly leaning down, pressing the length of her chest against the back of his shoulder blades. A strange feeling that she couldn't quite feel- as if her body were numb, unaware of the motion- harder she pressed herself against him. She wanted to feel it. She wanted him to feel it. She wanted him to know that she was his. He was without equal, and she-it was his right to claim her. His right. And she would be honored. His power, his grace, his majesty- to become a part of that thrilled her. She drew her head nearer- pressing soft lips against the back of the pale column of his neck._

"_This should not have been unexpected. A pure human soul has inherently more value. In the end perhaps…Octavia's plan finally came to fruition. Self preservation. How….pointless. There is no meaning to our existence- and yet he…they persist on living…."_

_More insistent now. 'Look at me'. Her lips pressed feverishly against the back of his neck. 'Please look at me'. Her lips, soft, delicate like the sweet scented petals of flowers beneath the sun, drew along the length of his neck. 'Acknowledge me. Please acknowledge me.' Tilting her head, her hair cascading over his shoulder as her lips drew tantalizingly slowly along the length of his jawbone. 'Please. Please.' _

_He did not spare her a glance, disregarding her advances with an immovable cruelty that thrilled her. Blatant admiration- for he was not one to be swayed so easily- and this was her pride. Her pride as his._

"_Onna you are not yourself. This is merely the force of my reiatsu forcing you to submit. Although you perhaps have managed to maintain some semblance of what you believe to be a conscience, I assure you that none of this is being done of your own volition."_

_Words in the back of her throat- even though he had not given her permission to speak. She would bear any punishment, bear any manner of insult or injury, if only those eyes would look at her, if only those hands would touch her. She was his, to do with as he willed. She was his so why- why wouldn't those hands unleash her? Why wouldn't those eyes bring her to life? Because he was her precious…precious master. And the words found her._

"_Please-" a murmur barely uttered, dredged up from the depths of the haze, the dark pit of her soul unleashed, brought to the surface. She wasn't afraid to beg. She would beg, on hands and knees, she would beg without the slightest semblance of guilt, regret or remorse._

_"Please."_

_And her lips trailed along the length of his jawbone, and her fingertip circled that pit of blackness etched into the expanse of his chest, and her hands scorched a path down the front of his chiseled chest. The cold was so delicious, so delicious to her and she…she wanted…she needed…those hands. Those cold, unmerciful hands. Those eyes. Those bottomless pits of the deep. She needed- and she tilted his head back gently with her hands, seeing him through the haze, the gleaming amber pits of his eyes. And she knew he needed it, needed her- and she lowered her lips to his because he needed her-and his words-_

_And those eyes stared into her- and she could feel them, could feel the barely contained power behind them. And in a way she would never again be able to understand, something was in there- something was in there crawling beneath the surface. She wanted to know. She had to know. It was there on the tip of her tongue- she couldn't place it or name it but with him like this- she could feel it. As his, as his prey, as his willing sacrifice she could feel it. _

_It was-_

_But those eyes closed quietly, sealing the secret, drawing it just out of her grasp. The truth of him slipped away from her. His voice rung in her ear with a mind clearing clarity that struck her through the haze._

"_Onna. I release you from the bonds my spiritual pressure has placed upon you."_

_And-_

"_You would be wise to leave, and not return. If you choose to accept these terms, I will have you freed from all recollection of these events. You will be able to return to your normal life relatively unscathed. That is the most logical course of action."_

_And…._

_And the haze lifted- the haze lifted as suddenly as a night wind carrying the fog away from the surface of the sea. And she blinked- and her eyes were wide and grey, the black void fading. Fading- and it was her- it was her standing there. It was her standing there looking down at him, her eyes staring into suddenly open eyes that were no longer gleaming emerald, but tarnished amber. It was her hands, delicately laced beneath his chin, it was her breasts placed against the length of his back, it was her heart, pounding in her ears. It was her flesh, her blood, rousing to life. It was her. _

_Her mind, clearing now, caught up with her body- and she snatched her hands away from him, stumbling backwards so fast that her feet crossed and she fell harshly to the ground. Her eyes wide, grappled with his, with the ever darkening amber, the serpentine slits that bored mercilessly into her own. She felt the breath catch in her throat- felt the breath catch in her throat- as his hair lengthened, as the pale pallor of his skin became whiter still. She watched with something that was not quite terror, not quite hysteria, bubbling in her throat as slowly but surely, from the side of his skull a horn began to protrude._

_She gasped for breath that she could not find, as she tried to find words to explain to her dumbfounded mind what it was that she was seeing. Against the concrete, her hands shook with such force that her elbows quivered, threatening to buckle out from under her. Was this a dream? Was this a nightmare? Some horrible fantasy from which she could not escape? She blinked her eyes harshly, tears of something that she was sure was panic- threatening to blind her. It was just a dream, just a dream and it was him. It was just him and her- there was no need to be frightened, just a dream, just a-_

_She opened her eyes- and nearly screamed._

_He'd finished undergoing his monstrous transformation, and the sight of this nightmare that only her imagination could concoct frightened her to the point that the tears sprawled over and down the expanse of her cheeks. _

_And those amber eyes stared at her from some pit deep within himself into which he had receded, ragged streaks of black descending from his eyes down the plane of his cheeks. Twin horns made of bone protruded from the depths of inky black hair, flowing down the length of his back- and white strips of cloth hung in taters around all encompassing wings of night. Like the wings of some great bat, stretched taunt over a delicate frame, filling the room with their size. And his arms were bathed in night up to his elbows, the talons impossibly sharp and lethal now, and she could easily imagine them at her neck. And the other remaining scraps of his torn clothing lay about him, at his now taloned feet, his waist and legs now cloaked in a mass of dark fur. And the hole-! The gaping hole, the gaping hole which bled black in a heavy stream that vanished into the darkness at his waist-_

_-and he sighed as if from some deep part of himself, sighed like the man who was told he was going to die, like one resigned to fate._

"_This form frightens you." A statement of fact. Reserved, almost contemplative, as if he himself had not ever truly believed that such a thing were probable. But then- "It is to be expected." –resigned. Of course. _

_And she came to herself, casting aside her fear and her panic with all that was within her, violently up heaving at the unspoken sorrow in his voice. The words leapt to her throat, choked with her horror, her tears, and her love._

"_I'm sorry! This is all my fault! I didn't get good sleep last night, I had a bad day- if it weren't for me and my stupid imagination you would be-" and she lost the words as she gasped for breath, precariously drawing herself to her knees, her hands clutched in front of her as if in prayer, eyes watering and wounded. And- there was a lapse as widened amber eyes took all of her in, and she could sense his confusion. Even now, even here- she could feel it as if this were unchanging reality._

"_Onna…"_

_She didn't want to hear him say it, didn't want to hear him renounce her, not here! Not in this place, not in the only place where they could be!_

"_No, no I'm telling you it's all my fault! I'm really sorry, you've never looked like this before, I didn't mean to ruin you! It's only because I kept thinking about that princess and dragons foolishness that this is even happening-I promise it won't happen again I-"_

_And he stared at her, his face impassive, yet with a glint in the depth of his amber eyes that seemed almost…disbelieving. She choked on the words hastily, already regretting wasting precious time that she could never reclaim, precious memories made in the grip of slumber, fondly remembered and treasured right up until the moment when she opened her eyes. And those amber eyes- a noteworthy change that she would come to appreciate as she did all things regarding him- zeroed in on her. The cold couldn't touch her now- not here._

"_Mortals…constantly diverting their attention from the inescapable truth. Onna this is not a dream."_

_She paused, blinking her eyes curiously at him, and rose to her feet. She stared at him without shame. A part of her- that acknowledged her mastery of this realm, demanded that she rebuke him. But the precious, doting heart of hers- told her that as much as she desired it, there were aspects of his character she could never change. And with some degree of bitterness she remembered that this wouldn't be the first time. _

_Her mind had an amazing tenacity and surprising creative ability when it came to dreams- when the haze set in- she could blur the line. The dividing line between dreams and reality- and sometimes she couldn't tell the difference. It was an adaptive ability she'd somehow managed to develop when she realized her life was lacking, when she realized she wasn't needed…and when she realized that surrounded by countless friends- she was alone. It was easier to live this way, caught in this blind, dreamlike haze. Here- he…she….could be anything her heart desired. And she knew this with a stunning clarity as he stood before her._

_Even if it was hard to focus, hard to really understand what was real and what wasn't without physical, tangible evidence…there was no doubt in her mind that the Ulquiorra that stood before her right now- demonized as he was- was anything but the real thing. She knew dreams when she felt them- and she'd had many…too many. The haze that could snatch her up and away at the most inopportune times had always been because of him. Always. This was no exception. If this was the most interaction she would have with him outside of reality, dragon or no, she would take it. And in the moment it took for her to understand this, was within the very same moment in which she realized that this was as close as she would ever get._

"_That…sounds like something the real Ulquiorra would say. I guess…I'm getting better huh?" She knew the edge beneath those words had to be sadness. But she cast it away. This realm was hers, and she was ashamed at her panic, her initial fear. Here she could be bold, without reality to bind her, and without him to stop her. Here- she could be whatever her heart desired and here- the gap between them didn't matter or exist._

_She took a step nearer to him, a step unchecked by hesitation, or anticipation as her eyes roved over him._

"_To be honest I'm a little surprised- I really did outdo myself this time, this is the most I've ever spoken with you in my dreams. Usually in most of them you're cruel and…you don't even acknowledge that I'm even here. Those kind of dreams…make me feel like I'm the stranger, like I'm the one that doesn't belong. And in some of them you're passionate…you don't hold yourself back from me. And if it's been a really good day…you're loving. Even if I know that…none of it is real…I'm willing to accept it."_

_Her voice drifted off as she smiled at him, smiled at him like the idiotic naïve fool that she was, smiling at him with open eyes. She smiled at him with an honesty and purity that thoroughly disgusted him, that nearly made him turn away from that bewitching power she alone possessed. _

_She drew closer to him during the silence, her eyes curiously taking in the length of him, as she rubbed at the stray tears on her face. Her eyes devoured him with a probing gentleness as she circled him, observing him from all the angles she could find. Her gaze roved over him proudly, without accusation or critique, but openly, with acceptance._

"_I have to say though…my imagination really outdid itself this time- who would've thought wings and horns could have made you look so amazing? You really do look like a real dragon now- now if only this dream gave me a dress! Something nice and flowing- probably white- and I wonder why we're in your basement? I-"_

_As soon as the thought occurred to her she knew the answer. This basement. This damned basement. Where she had seen his perfect little façade shatter. Where she had understood what it meant to truly fear the one you loved. Where he had…touched her for the first time. It all made sense now, she couldn't help but think bitterly. The dragon's lair would be here. In the dark and dim, amongst smoke and flames, remembering her helplessness. _

_And his voice reached her ears again, a sigh that was not so much despairing as it was frustrated._

"_.….very well then Onna. For the sake of your psyche, assume this is a dream. Do not expect to ever again receive this courtesy…even this...is more than enough. I will once again give you the option: If you ascend the steps and leave this place- you will…'awaken.' If you forego that and decide to stay here, you will be…entrapped in a precarious situation from which you can no longer escape. There will be no further negotiation. Choose."_

_And those wide grey eyes stared at him and she-_

_-those wide grey eyes stared at him- and then they softened, they melted into twin pools of such warmth that it startled him, as a slow smile bloomed on her face. Her face filled with a warmth that could have made the most emotionally composed man weep. And the very essence of his soul squirmed with a hate so intense, so overwhelming that for a single moment his talons ached to rip her apart and devour her. And she could never feel it, the pits of his loathing for her, for this. Never feel this deep rooted hatred for her and her idiotic tendencies, for her and her trifling love, __**for her.**_

_And she drew nearer to him with open arms, and he wanted to throw her away, disgusted with the indecisiveness within him, disgusted with the upheaval within him, the bitter tinged curiosity to let her come closer, the hate in his throat as he thought of that warmth. And she drew nearer to him, unabashedly drew nearer- her eyes never leaving his as she lowered herself to the ground beside him. Slowly, ever so slowly – she placed her head against his knees, her hair gleaming like the color of sunset against him with a silken whisper. He couldn't see her face- but he could almost imagine the sickening expression it would bear- warm eyes, gentle smile- the epitome of weakness. If he killed her now- if he killed her now- it would suit a mortal so foolish._

"_If I could dream of you forever and ever, just like this, I would be more than happy. At least in my dreams…I can touch you and speak to you, and at least I can be with you just like this and you don't push me away. At least in my dreams…I can pretend you love me too."_

_And the words were soft whispers, the love in them tangible, heartfelt and- the hate raged in his chest. He did not enjoy the dull arrival of remembrance, a thought that he should have never given form. He remembered that he had wanted to break her. _

"_Only those living in shallowness and illusion avoid constant torture.__There is no meaning to this, and yet you search for meaning still. This is only a futile attempt at masking the inescapable truth- that I will never fall prey to a concept as pointless as love. Any attempts to delude yourself otherwise will only result in self induced suffering__**."**_

_And she deserved to suffer, this soft hearted fool, she deserved to suffer for this- the blasphemy of this. A mortal…and a hollow. The absurdity of this onna's ability to search fruitlessly for meaning within moments that held no discoverable significance or value was beyond amusement._

_The sudden silence surprised him- as she softly clutched his hanging hand, the warmth of her small hand scorching the cold in his. She chucked bitterly, and the words that fell from her lips were resigned- accepting. _

"_You didn't think I knew that? If I could be with you like this just a little bit longer…then I'm fine with that."_

_She was willing to bear it. She was willing to bear anything. Anything small crap of hope she could find, she believed in wholeheartedly, without hesitation devoid of wariness or fear. The reality of this improbable situation grasped him within the very moment in which he realized she had learned nothing. Nothing at all._

_The Rage._

_Foolish. Naïve. Ignorant. Pathetic. Infuriating. To put such faith, such emotion into another who would easily denounce her and her idiotic whims. How meaningless. How pointless. How futile. He loathed that soft touch, the warmth of her hand, the soft skin enwrapped around his hand. He lamented that small form curled against him, the whispering murmur of her breath against his knee, he despised the whisper of her tresses, colored like the sky at sunset, murmuring against his cold flesh._

"_You know…when you…did that to me I…I just…I don't know. I should hate you, I should…for doing that to me despite how much it…hurt me. But I couldn't. I know that if this were real, you would tell me how stupid I was being and you're right. I'm beyond stupid for…loving you. I could find someone who would love me back, who would hold me back, who would touch me with warm hands, loving words but…they wouldn't be you. Here- I'm not afraid to tell you. "_

_He would make her suffer. He would make her grieve. He would make her rage, loath, hate- he would break her, the fool. He would break her. He would break her because she would not give up, not give him up. He would break her because if she was the pinnacle of emotion, of joy and love, then he was the blackest pits of despair. Break her. Because it was his nature. Because she willingly held the keys to her own demise. How could she expect more from him, how dare she ask more of him? To ask more of him, to want more of him, more of him to put into this world, to be contaminated, dredged in its filth. The filth of the mortal realm- become immersed in its delusions, its naïveté, its foolishness. His very existence had no purpose, value or justification. The very notion of living when a meaningful existence was impossible in this world made his skin crawl. He had been content to sever emotional ties, resigned to an annihilating death without hope or regret, the last reaffirmation of the utter futility of living._

_How dare she ask more of him? To suit her whims? It was the same- the same as the fools attempting to keep him alive in order to secure their own irreparable fates. It was the same. Attempting to tie him to this realm, to this feeble plain of existence. To bind him. Bind him with words, with love, the chains feeble but strong- but chains nonetheless._

"_I decided that no matter what happens…I still can't change the way I feel. I know it's hopeless, I know that, I do…I know how you are…I don't have to say it anymore I know it. But when I think of you…walking away from me and…how lonely and sad you seem, but still proud somehow…it makes me want to be beside you. I'm not much of a woman, I know- I'm still too much of a child, everyone tells me so. But with you I feel like- I'm finally not afraid to be that woman I was meant to be. Confident and strong…to be worthy of your side."_

_The Rage._

_Centuries past. Ages upon ages of chains. Of loyalty, devoid of all hope, will only for the sake of the master. For the good of the master. Nothing less, nothing more. Centuries of war, of blood, of sunless sky and eternal night. Of battle. Of bitter emptiness, loneliness, hatred, cold. _

" _I know it's selfish but I..I want to be the one you…look at with more than emptiness. I want to be the one to make you smile, the one to make you happy. It would be nice if I could reach you, maybe reach the part of you that you try to hide. It'd be nice if…I could be the one to make you see that love can find anyone. Even you."_

_She was foolish to think she could change that. Foolish mortal, pathetic fool who was as an infant to him, a handful of years full of light and joy and she dared to think she could change centuries of reality. _

_He had vowed to break her. He vowed to break her so thoroughly she wouldn't want to live, to breathe a moment more with the thought of him. He'd break her so thoroughly she would yearn for death. He'd break her. Crush that wavering heart in the palm of his hand. He'd break her. Break her. See if that delusional love would survive then. There was nothing for him within the fallible heart of one trifling girl. Nothing. This was a reality she refused to believe, and one he could not deny._

"_I want to be the one that you love. And until then…I'm sure that…I'll wait. For as long as it takes, I'll wait." _

_And then those great gray eyes turned towards him, and in them was a warmth that made his chest squirm with the blackest of loathing, the strange semi-conscious awareness of a mind stuck between reality and dream evident on her face._

"_I'm so stupid but I wish…", and her face tapered off into a whisper, a whisper as one lone tear drifted down the expanse of her cheek."…I wish you knew. I wish that I could tell you that. But we both know you wouldn't hear of that right?" And the heartbreaking smile on her face struck him- those eyes like wounds unnerved him._

_The form- reverting, unwinding, releasing, unrestrained- it was this form, flooding his veins with power, the truth of him resurfacing, the madness, the scourge just below the surface. He held it accountable for these fruitless urges, the suddenly raw, untamed desire to make her suffer. Illogical, irrational, pointless. For what gain should one such as he attempt to prolong life? For what purpose should he with hold himself from the infinite black abyss that awaited him in death? _

_He knew there was no meaning in this. And yet…._

…_amidst the loathing, the hate, the void- there was…_

…_a slight interest. An insignificant, uncalculated complication. _

_-Is she not beautiful? _

_With skin, soft and warm, bronzed from countless days in the sun. Soft lips, smooth cheeks, colored pink. The graceful column of her neck, of her quickening pulse, her heart beneath the sloping curves of her chest. The small waist, the smooth expanse of legs bared beneath her skirt. The depth of gray orbs, intense, focused, enraged, joyful, depressed- the glittering jewels of her eyes that revealed her. This was life, life lived to the fullest extent, cultivated with the blessing of the gods. Was this not beauty?_

_-Is she not innocent? _

_Slightly quivering flesh- the way her eyes would meet his openly, devoid of fear, with such intensity and focus that it unnerved him. The way those same eyes skirted around him, avoided him, with a hidden shame, possessor of a secret she could not bear to share. The way small teeth would nibble at pink lips. The rush of blood to her cheeks. The way she shivered, subconsciously, when his eyes found hers. The way she'd kissed him with such passion, drew him nearer- then frightened at her boldness, pulled away- only to return. The way she pursued him- steadfast and devoted. The way she believed she could change him. The way she tried to make him understand. Was this not innocence?_

_-Can you not imagine it? _

_How could he? He did not dream._

_-How wonderful she would taste? _

_A sickeningly sweet scent. To devour a flower, just beginning to bloom. To stain freshly fallen snow with blood._

_-How pleasurable it would be to watch those dove grey eyes darken with despair? _

_He had seen them. Wide and disbelieving- broken- yet strong. Weary- yet unshaken. Sad- but resigned._

_-Come now- is it not in your nature?_

…_His nature? _

_He did not believe in anything he could not see for himself. He renounced the existence of all he could not logically explain. If he could not come to a proper conclusion, the rejection of reality was imminent. He loathed the world, he loathed life with such intensity that he would welcome death because of it. If there was meaning, if there were a reason, it had long since been buried beneath the dredge of ages. And she…_

_-She is just ripe for misery- just ripe for-_

_And then he understood._

_The heart. That damned heart. She spoke so easily of it- as if she held it within the palm of her hand. Just like- it was there, unseen yet felt- the cause of all of her misery- and yet the root of her happiness. A paradox he could not resolve. A reality he could not refute._

_-Why not be gentle to her? Why not…make her your lover?_

_Octavia. He was not one to acknowledge defeat, especially when it was so cheaply won._

_Nnoitra lost himself on the pleasure of the flesh. Grimmjow in the roar of battle. Syazel in his knowledge. Zonmari in his despair. Barragon rotting with his arrogance. Harribel in her silence. Nel with the last remaining streaks of her joy, the remains of her sanity in hiding. And others-lost in the depths of their loneliness. _

_-And he?_

_He understood._

"_Onna. Your eyes. Close them."_

_And obediently, dark eyelashes kissed the tops of sun drenched cheeks, still glittering with tears. She tilted her head back with a wordless sigh of quiet acceptance, and hastily ran her tongue over her lips. He took it in-the sight of her neck bared before him like an offering, the scent of innocence drenching her skin._

_And in that other world, the submitting would've been a complete repression of will, the sadistic binding of bodies. Not as a conjoined lover, but utilized as a means of power, a means of establishing the more dominant being. Those in power had the ability to keep the subordinated beneath them and this power was continuously established, continuously re-enforced. There were no places to hide, nowhere to run. If you were weak enough to be dominated, you garnered no pity. The weak suffered- as slaves to suit the appetites of the brethren who thrilled themselves on the taste of freshly spilt blood. It was only that- only the sudden need- the cold hard need of hunger. A hunger like he had never known, an all encompassing, ferocious and pressing need that was revolting. _

_Just this once. The last time, the only time- he would acknowledge the chains. He would revel in them. To test the limits of the heart. To test the limits of this so-called love. To explore the depths of this madness. But never again._

_Clawed hands ghosted along her skin and she shivered as they bared her shoulders, grazed the tops of her breasts. And there- above her quivering heart- there- and a clawed talon traced the outline of that hole she could not see, the chain unwinding about her that she could not see. To remove her soul directly from her body would inadvertently kill her- so he would drink from her, feed on her._

_And when he placed that dark kiss against her flesh, against that invisible circle of black, pain blossomed beneath her eyelids. A strangled cry of a pain so intense that it rivaled pleasure as it filled her, and unbidden his arms wrapped around that small quivering form. Not with love, nor with pleasure. But a cold, detached need as his hunger over powered him. She fell back and he fell with her, arms entwined around that quivering, trembling body as she shuddered in his arms, hands clutching as she squirmed beneath him. Perhaps she screamed his name, garbled by the intensity of a feeling she could not wholly identify or even begin to understand. Perhaps now she was truly afraid - he could hear the fear in her voice, wracking her lungs as she gasped aloud for breath. To siphon from the soul of a mortal yet alive- was an otherworldly experience which would ravage her memory, course through her body with a pain that was not yet pain, a pleasure that was not yet pleasure. And her body squirmed beneath him as he held her, the warmth of her skin fluctuating, growing hotter and hotter still, scorching the cold of his chest. And her breasts heaved beneath him as she gasped aloud for air, and the erratic tattoo of her heart reverberated in his head. And her hands grasped at him. Pushing him away. Pushing him away. Drawing him closer, closer still. The dull pain of fingertips, clawing feverishly against the impenetrable armor of his skin._

_And perhaps now she was truly suffering, caught in a seemingly endless cycle of pain and pleasure._

_-And his name was on the tip of her tongue like a sigh, like a prayer. Panted with some unbridled passion like an animal, whispered like a lover, screamed like a curse. Not yet a woman, not quite a girl- her body ground against his in a fruitless and subconscious attempt to sate something within her, unwinding, coiling, something far bigger than herself. And he understood it now as before, when that small form, the warmth of her- had been in his hands. When those eyes had begged him silently for mercy. When she forced herself not to make a sound, not to indulge him- and it had intrigued him, the depths of this 'love'- how much would she bear, how much would she suffer because of it- and how inevitably in the end she had broken beneath him. Now as before- she was broken beneath him, whimpering, tears prevalent in the depths of half lidded gray eyes, his name on her lips. But it was not as before- with the essence of her scorching his tongue. It was not as before- a thing done cruelly, detached and passionless- only to force the limits of her humanity, only to subdue her, to dominate her._

_It was not as before- with the sweet taste of sunshine and rain, of smiles and tears on his tongue. It was not as before now, when she held him to her, not as before now, with that flesh beneath him. It was not pity of the plight she faced, the unrelenting heat flooding her body that she herself alone could not sate. It was not pity, remorse, or guilt. It was…a slight interest._

_And she was blind as she screamed his name, as she ground her hips wantonly against him, as her hands clutched at him, as her legs spread beneath him. As she rolled her body beneath his in a fruitless attempt to draw nearer, ever closer to him. And he could feel her beneath him, feel her-_

'_Please! Please…! Please-!"_

_And the tears streamed down her face because she knew not what she was begging for, because she knew not what it was she needed to release her, because she knew not what it would take to free her from this limbo of the flesh as he fed from her, as he devoured the light inside of her. And she tossed her head in an agony that she could not contain, tears running in rivulets down the slopes of her cheeks, the column of her neck. _

_And he drew himself upward, with a sudden desire to see her face, with a sudden selfish desire he could not place- for her to say it again. To once more, with those lips- to once more as before, with her hands feeling him, to once more, with that blind gaze._

_**Say it.**_

_And she knew. She knew as the tears came harder, she knew as her hands dug into the cold of his flesh. She knew when she met his eyes- and she tried to look away, but he stopped her with a clawed hand, and she could no longer refuse him. And he placed a clawed hand over that pulsating heart, and he squeezed with an intensity that made her scream._

"_Please! Please-!"_

_And the words died on her lips, and he was overcome by a feeling he could no longer identify. Just this once. Just this once he would acknowledge it, he would give in to the depths of this baseless madness, just this once- and his grip tightened and she screamed anew, fresh tears in her eyes._

"_I give my everything to you, you can have it! You can have it! You can have it- "_

_And there it was. Something- just below the surface knew this was not the heart he sought- but something deeper, something primal- the madness- the hollow he had long since repressed- relished the submitting of this onna, reveled in the subjugation, the unspoken binding. And she could no longer escape now, she had damned herself the moment their eyes had met. She had damned herself the moment she had refused to give up. She had damned herself the moment she gave in. Strong but weak, tarnished but pure, on the threshold of adulthood and youth- and now his. To break at his own discretion. Feed from at his leisure. Command as he wished. _

_-Why not be gentle to her? Why not…make her your lover?_

_He did not need a lover. There was nothing in him that believed in gentleness, kindness. There was only this sudden, pressing need. And devoid of pity, without remorse, without guilt- he would release her- not because of sympathy, but because of duty. Another claim. She was bound. And once more- for the last time- so was he. _

_His hands released her and he broke her feeble grip from around him. She cried out, reaching for him, trying to hold on to him- and like steel his tail entrapped her wrists. He drew himself down the length of her supple body, mechanically mapping the expanse of exposed abdomen, the slopping curves of her hips._

_The last pleasure left to them- the human flesh- its mysteries, its secrets, its warmth- he would discover for himself._

_It was only this once. _

* * *

AN: I LIVE. BUT ENOUGH ABOUT ME.

I've had this chapter ready for awhile now, but once again I am quite wary about uploading chapters now without a beta reader anymore since Idk what happened the the lovely one I had. All the same if anyone would like to help me out, feel free to let me know. But this squee worthy chapter HAD to be uploaded with or without boo boos following my discovery of Bleach Unmasked. But for now, here is the long awaited Ulqui-centric chapter (kinda) I'm not sure what I think about it yet, so let me know I'm failing at life right now due to shipping overload. That said, the hollow feeding theory is one that seemed plausible so I went with it. Will orihime remember it? Or will ulquiorra give her the grace of forgetfulness? I think it's too late for either of them now..either way please excuse my mistakes, I'm trying to get better. Also, I seem to finally realize that at the top of the page readers can adjust the font size/page coloring. The small font size and black background with white lettering REALLY suits the mood for this. But moving on to the biggest news-

If you haven't heard/read it yet, Ulquiorra unmasked is perhaps one of the single greatest events in the history of ulquihime since the moment orihime tried to grab ulquiorra's hand. I'M NOT SHITTING WITH YOU. It is literally a Ulquihime doujinshi_ that reveals ulqui's back story._

_And for your squeeing pleasure?_

-Newborn Ulquiorra in his hollow form

-the fact that he takes naps in ORIHIME'S JAIL CELL

-Orihime DOES call him ulquiorra-KUN

ARGH I'M SO EXCITED I CAN'T EVEN TYPE

SO BASICALLY THE FANDOM CAN NOW REJOICE. The scanlated version of the above stated comic can be found at bleachness or you can google Ulquorra Unmasked and probably find links to it.

So yeah Ulquihime is so fucking canon you wouldn't believe it. KUBO TITE SHIPS IT. -resisting the urge to stomp on the haters and non believers- Now I shall go cackle maliciously as I await the hoard of inspired fanfics/art to roll in.

That said, the brief comic tells you so much and so little. The speculations! The implications! And increasing possibility for a second coming, or kubo just trolling with us since he finally gave some fans what they wanted?

Discuss!

-Oh and I don't own bleach. and for damn good reason.


	9. Revelation Of The Damned

**[A**_l__**iC**_e** I**n _C__h_**a**i_n**s]**_

_**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**_

_**[Revelation Of The Damned]  
**_

* * *

She awoke to a silence so tangible it frightened her. She awoke in a room of white, on top of a bed that smelled of ice and winter, shivering. She awoke to bare shoulders and quivering thighs. She awoke to sated warmth pooled in her lower belly, to dried tears against her cheeks, to a throat hoarse from screams. Confused and disoriented, and scrambling for breath. Drenched in sweat, flesh tinged with cold. She awoke from a nightmare that could not have been real, a nightmare that enthralled her as much as it frightened and horrified her. This had not been the gentle dreams of her past musings, rose tinted dreams, filled with probing kisses and smiles- or cold hands and emerald eyes that saw straight through her. No this dream-

_She screamed, arms flailing, reaching for him- to push him away- to pull him away-but the living steel of him wrapped around her wrists, binding her. _

This dream- of wings tinted black, eyes a dying amber, rusted gold against her- and-

_And this time she did scream, louder and ear piercing, and those clawed hands were urgent now, a strange detached urgency like death on a deadline. Closed thighs were ripped apart- _

And the screams- she could hear them as if they had been her own, could hear them fresh and raw in her ears. And she could almost feel it, could almost-

_- those cold lips closed against her, searing ice against the hottest part of her- and she threw her head back without shame, hair whipping against her cheeks from the sheer violence of the action, her back arching as fire exploded beneath her flesh. She screamed without restraint as those cold lips pressed against her, sucking the essence out of her, drawing greedily against her, the cold lips pressed against her, the tongue drawn against her-_

The violence. And she shuddered and closed her eyes to stop the thought, pulling legs close and wrapped her arms around them, closed her eyes and thought fiercely of other things, closed her eyes and thought of other places, as she closed her eyes and refused to think of him. What -of her friends- her friends! She came to herself within that moment, truly came to herself- disbelieving as she stared around her, a sickening sinking in her throat as her stomach fell. What? _What was this?_ Did she- _had_ she? Hadn't she been at school? There had been Tatsuki's words, striking the heart of her- there had been Nel comforting her, Harribel and then-

-And then_…?_

_Something, someone- calling her?_

What could it have been? The haze? Because she knew this place. She knew this scent. She knew this feeling- this mixed, swirling feeling within her lower belly. Of anticipation, anxiety and fear. She knew these pristine, white walls. She _knew_ this place. And she jumped to her feet, and padded, barefoot, into the dark hall and came to a stop. She stood there and felt her stomach sunk into the depths of her being, her mouth suddenly dry. She willed her hands not to shake, and for a single moment the world around her seemed to warp, spinning in a plethora of color- madness in this castle of white. In the dark of the adjoining room she could see him. See his silhouette, the broad expanse of those slender shoulders, the relaxed length to those arms, hands casually swallowed in the depth of black slacks. Emerald eyes zeroed in on her. Blocking the door.

"Onna."

And the words struck her like a closed fist and she stumbled against the wall, barely catching herself, barely managing to stop the black from descending upon her. Because it _was_ him in the flesh, with those cold emerald eyes staring at her anew, with something else in the depths of them. It was him- standing there, his hands stuffed into his pockets, that languid yet tense fluidity in his shoulders as he blocked her escape. As if she wanted to escape. As if she would ever turn her back on him again. It was him- it was _him._ But she saw-

_Eyes the color of dying amber. Tears of streaming black. Black talons, aching to rip her apart. A whisper of warm steel binding her wrists. Cloaked in the shadow of wings. And against her chest-fangs-_

She stumbled, a hand pressed feverishly against her chest, the space below the base of her neck, above her breasts. She winced, flinching at the sudden sharp pain that rattled her with its intensity. She nearly keeled over, confused, as she struggled to understand. It was not a physical pain- but - _what_ _was that?_ A wave of nausea rocked her being and something- squirming, unfolding inside of her. Afraid- wary of the depths of this feeling she could not accurately explain, her eyes tentatively met his as she felt the sweat dotting her brow. She suddenly felt drained and spent- as if she hadn't slept in days, as if she'd been awake for an eternity. Her eyes met his- but in them was something that frightened her more than the usual. As if he could sense the sudden change in her, and the sinister, other worldly feeling bubbling inside of her that she could not define. Like the haze. Like her and him in this room. _This was not allowed._

She couldn't look away and she wondered if that scared her more- aware of her fear and..as stupidly as it frightened her, it thrilled her- in a way that made goose bumps break along the length of her skin. It was as if she were naked, and that made her heart pound and her legs tremble. But it was not as before- it was stronger, it was worse- it was blood coursing through her veins as if his hands were in the place of his gaze, drawing against her. It was her stomach knotting up from anticipation, it was growing harder and harder to breathe, it was warmth in her cheeks, it was an intense longing in her spirit to _touch _him. To please him. To offer herself to him, to throw herself at his feet, body and soul.

**_Let him feed. Let him feed. _Sate_ him. Please him. Keep him. Keep him._**

She shook her head hastily, shaking away the strange whispers at the back of her mind- what was wrong with her? Was she going crazy? What on earth-? Frightened to a point to she was unable, she couldn't think or follow the twisted train of thought to the end. The days running together- _in a room filled with black. Rusted walls cloaked in shadow. Emerald eyes glowing like beacons in the night. Cold, Cruel hands. Mind, body, soul- thrown to the winds. A frantic, mind consuming pleasure that bordered on pain_-Had any of that even been real? Where did the haze end and reality begin? She didn't understand. And feeling sweat begin to trail down the back of her neck her eyes hesitantly found his.

"…how did I get here? And-" _What did you do to me? _Something within him- something came to life within him then- as if the words hastily murmured in her head had been yelled aloud. She took a step back- a hand feverishly grasping at her chest, throbbing beneath her palm as if an open wound lay there, bloody and raw.

"…you do not remember." His voice was brooding, contemplative as his eyes narrowed. "You do not want to remember. Even though I have given you an answer Onna...you still hold to your self delusions."

"Remember…?"_Did she want to remember? Did she want to know. What he had done? What had he done to her?_

His face was as impassive as always. But in the depths of those eyes-

_And her body squirmed beneath him as he held her, the warmth of her skin fluctuating, growing hotter and hotter, scorching the cold of his chest. And her breasts heaved beneath him as she gasped aloud for air, and the erratic tattoo of her heart reverberated in his head. And her hands grasped at him- pushing him away, pushing him away- and then drawing him closer, closer still-_

And she clutched at her head as it rung painfully, an echo of memory that rattled her soul. And then the fear was real within her, the fear was a tangible earthly thing within her and- as if he _knew- as if he could feel it. _There was an ache now, a snowballing pain that snatched the breath from her. She stumbled, heaving for breath, gasping aloud as her eyes- wide and wounded- bored into his. The depth of those eyes- _knew her._ Like never before. As if she had been torn asunder, as if she couldn't hide and then-

"Onna."

And the hysteria had entrapped her before she could blink, before she could think, and all she could hear, all she could feel were those _claws_ upon her, were those eyes upon her- a mix of emerald and amber- wings- and- it _couldn't have been real_, - but she had to prove it- she didn't believe it- and she ran up to him before the panic could lay hold of her. She ran up to him and grabbed the fabric of his shirt in her hands, and with fumbling fingers, unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt. He was still, silent beneath her hands- but she could feel his eyes on her as her heart pounded in her ears. This close- too close- she could feel the cold of him. Multiplying. Stronger now- she could almost see her breath, feel the blood freeze in her veins. She heard him speak the fatal words.

"Are you prepared-"

But she didn't listen- she didn't listen and ripped his shirt open and- and breath left her in a sudden, foul swoop. She was struck dumb, frozen, and felt her heart cease.

As she stared at the black hole in his chest.

* * *

"_-And?"_

"_Assuming she does not go mad, gradually the effect of his reiatsu working within her may lead to her having a spiritual awakening of her own. The extraordinary thing about these humans, is that it does not take much for their innate spiritual prowess to be invoked- in the case of that mortal Ichigo, the success of his own flourishing reiatsu could easily be more than enough to directly influence the people around him. However in her case, for reasons I have not yet been able to determine, that was not so. Now however- she as well- will be able to see things unseen by mortal eyes, and feel the presence of spiritual entities. However, the nature of such I cannot at this moment determine. The direct outcome of sudden power varies according to the individual, especially in the case of a mortal. She could gain power equivalent to that of a shinigami- she could gain a power that could rival the gods- or she could only be able to vaguely sense the weakest of hollows."_

"_Hmph. What of this nonsense?"_

"_The most important time is now- we must do our best to familiarize her with us. She could prove useful in the event that the soul reapers somehow manage to catch on to us…she would be a wonderful bargaining piece."_

"_Thinking ahead as all ways…and what of his mark upon her?"_

"_It is still too early for her to see them- the very chains of her soul, in the palm of his hands. It is far too early to determine the nature of their bond- such things are not often done- however from the rare cases I have seen he obviously will be in control- and he will easily be able to control her thoughts or sway her will. She's weak willed enough, I highly doubt the chain will be a double edged sword for him as it has been for others."_

"…_For others? This madness has been attempted before with a mortal?"_

"_Well- let's just say that Ulquiorra is aware that he is the superior and that he is in control in this situation, and as long as his will is unbendable, then it will be easy for him to determine the nature of the bond. Bonds such as this are usually done between hollows...but the same rules should apply. The nature of the bond is determined by the one in position of the more dominant will- and they are strengthened and further entrap the submissive by strong emotions such as anger, fear, pain or pleasure. Since she is already thoroughly in love with him, that one factor alone is more than enough to keep the bonds around her steadfast. These humans can be quite obstinate when it comes to 'the ones they love.' As such, he will be able to interpret her actions before she can, read her mind- there won't be anything about her he won't know soon enough. And depending on which emotion he chooses to incite in her at the initial binding, will be the one that becomes the trigger he needs to keep her beneath him."_

"_I'm too old for all this talk. So basically if she was terribly frightened at the time of the binding-"_

"_-Then 'fear' would be the trigger emotion that would enable him to be in complete possession of all that she is, and access to the deepest recesses of her mind. Accordingly,' fear' would be the emotion she would need to feel in order to first access the spiritual power the binding would give her."_

"_Hollow Human binding…such utter madness. You forget yourself Octavia...No matter how dull the blade, a sword is still a weapon to kill. If he were to ever, for one moment... allow himself to feel a single shred of any emotion that is remotely human- she could just as easily establish herself as the more dominant being- and if that were so-"_

"_Come come now you honestly shouldn't jest when someone's talking to you so seriously. That poor silly girl? Don't be absurd. Ulquiorra would sooner die before he let that happen now. I suppose the good nature in me perhaps would be flustered at the notion of him being swayed by that girl- but the reality of it is we are allowing this only for the purpose for sustaining him, and to interest him enough to keep him alive. Outside of that, she is nothing but…a rare delicacy. Delightful for the moment-but easily forgotten."_

"_If you are certain..."_

"_Come now! I think we both know I've never lost a bet. And on this one I am willing to place my life."_

* * *

The beast was unrelenting, unmerciful- together, they had managed to send it reeling back into the darkness. But it had taken blood...it had taken struggle- but it had cost them more than that. It had taken their peace of mind- with a single roar of its might- it had single handedly undermined all of the plans Rukia had carefully constructed. Although the beast had gone back into the deep, that alone was of no consequence- the truth of the matter was that they had been living on borrowed time. And with the appearance of that monster, all of her efforts had been for naught…all of it…gone in smoke, in but a single moment. So quick- the happiness she ha gained, the friends, the comrades she had come to know- she felt them all, slipping out of her hands. _There hadn't been enough time. There hadn't been enough._

"-What the fuck just happened!"

Gruff, weary, haggard breaths hastily drawn- but not fast enough. Winded and breathless Ichigo struggled to remain standing, leaning heavily against his sword. Anxiously his eyes had scanned the sky as the beast relented, drawing back into the abyss from whence it came- and only once some semblance of victory had been established had his eyes met hers. Her eyes wavered for a moment more before they focused, shrewd and sharp-on him. Seeing the fear in the depths of those proud eyes had unnerved her. Ichigo. He was strong. He was noble. He was courageous, brave beyond measure. To see the doubt in his face as he turned to her- she looked away.

"A Menos Grande." She could taste the bitter edge of defeat on her tongue. The battle had been won. But the price? Far too high to pay. The very fates conspired against her, for her doom, to punish her for her sin. Because of her- she thought bitterly- all set into motion because of her. "…It is without question one of the most powerful hollows- we managed to subdue it for now but-"

"But what?" His voice sharply interjected, angry and raw with his fear. "That thing almost fucking killed us! We didn't win, it just got tired playing with us! A moment longer and-"

With a motion of his hand, Uryu willed the fuming boy into his silence. But his eyes were narrow, calculating as he stared over the rim of his glasses into her face. Behind her, the hulking shadow of Chad skulked behind him, the flesh of his arm virtually battered beyond repair. And- her eyes lit over Uryuu's blood stained finger tips, the palms sliced open from his insane speed as he had drawn his bow. These men…these children…had almost lost their lives on this day. In but a moment- in a single moment- everything could have changed. She could have gone from betrayer, from lawbreaker…to murder. For willingly putting them in harm's way. She could not have known it, could not have foreseen it but she…couldn't stop the disappointment. Angry with herself, for allowing this to happen.

"Rukia." Uryuu's level tone willed her from the depths of her thought, the revolting taste of her incompetence still in her chest. _Her fault. _

"We need to know more about what just happened...and how we could prevent it from happening again. Since we discovered each others abilities- however willingly or not-" he murmured, as he stared briefly at Ichigo's heaving face, "We have worked together to keep this town safe from hollows. But what I do not understand is the nature of these creatures. Unlike those strange hollows you and Ichigo found who have been feeding silently in the darkness…these…_others_…these _monsters_ have been coming more and more often. They have been stronger. And today this hollow-" He paused, turning his head and adjusting his glasses so she could not see the way his hands trembled. Fear.

"This hollow...was the worst yet. Were it not for Ichigo…we'd all be dead." He murmured quietly, letting the words settle between them. She could feel the blow to his pride- the still shifting unwillingness to acknowledge his own inability to protect himself. For once Ichigo was silent- and she could see the battle replaying in his head like a broken record. The call- the absolute horror on her face as she had felt the dip in the pressure, as she was thrown to her knees. As she stood shakily to her feet during class, ignoring the murmur of voices around her- as she had raised haggard eyes to the sky. The terror in her eyes as she had watched the beast part the very fabric of the sky.

Maybe he was remembering the reality of their situation- of the fact that this duty she had forced on him was not a joy, nor a thrill. Battling hollows was a constantly evolving nightmare. And today he had seen the worst. For the first time he had faced a hollow he could not defeat. If it had not been for Chad's endurance, Uryuu's precision- without a single one of them there…they would have all been dead. Just that easily. Their families would never have known- their very bodies would have been devoured, in limbo in the pit of the beast. For all of their work, their courage- to meet such a pointless end. There would have been no heaven, no gates of Soul Society welcoming them home. A pitiful death, with no reward, with no hope for rebirth. Although Ichigo had struck the final blow, that made it no less a bitter end. The beast could have easily returned, easily finished them off.

She turned, keeping her eyes level with each of theirs, the unspoken words flowing between them something she mutely understood. The knowledge that in that single moment, had been death- the end. The reality of this was something she had learned to live with as a soul reaper, through the centuries. But to these kids…she was disgusted at herself. Her weakness. Her selfishness.

"Rukia."

Ichigo began to speak and paused, waiting for her eyes to meet his. His voice had been firm, commanding, curt as he called her name. Like he believed in her. Like he trusted her. She felt tears start in her eyes suddenly, unbidden. _Fools_- as they all looked to her for guidance, for experience. She turned around abruptly- so they could not see the absolute despair etched in her eyes.

"We'll go back to Urahara's to heal our wounds. A Menos Grande is a high level hollow that rarely finds itself in the human world because human souls are not enough to sustain it. It is possible it was lured here by the scent of hollows- from the ones we have killed and the ones we have not. Whatever procured it's interest, was not worth truly fighting for. Regardless now we…"

She almost choked. Now? _We wait for them to come get me. _She thought savagely, bitterly. _Soon, without a doubt they will know where I am, and what I have done here. And they will kill me for it. They will find you Ichigo …Uryuu and Chad…and they will hunt you all down like wild dogs. Because of my sin. Because of me. Soul Society will not stand for it. And because of me you all will…_

"Rukia?" Ichigo's voice, weary from battle and hoarse- how did he still manage to sound so strong? So much stronger than her?

"Now let's go home."

She hurriedly blinked the tears away before he could see them. Those words…would this...she wondered, be the last time she would get to speak them?

* * *

She was too weak, too weary to run. Too tired to throw him away from her, or run screaming out the door. For a brief moment of insanity, she wanted to plunge her hand into the depths of that darkness, to see where it led. What would be on the other side? Hell? There was an intense burning desire within her to find out, a deep fear that crippled her- and a burning relief that shouldn't have been there. And stupidly, _stupidly_ –_this is why he can't love me. This is why he can't believe me. This is why. _A brief bubble of hysteria, of triumph- poor princess, poor fool! How could she ask the dragon to love her if he didn't have a heart to love her with? But all of that rose within her and faded in a still, silent moment and there was nothing she could say. Stupidly _so stupidly_ small hands rose and tentatively whispered around the edge of that pit of darkness, an eerie familiarity with the length of it echoing in her fingertips.

Foreign. Unreal. Not of this world. Perhaps she had always known it, had always expected it- this. He wasn't like her- like any of them- and somehow…she had always known. She didn't question it...she _couldn't_ question it. As if the very notion of disproving this had escaped her.

"Did it hurt when you lost it?...Do you remember what it felt like to have one? Do you…regret it?" She began quietly, surprised that the tremor of her words in the silence did not betray her weakness. But that wasn't enough, no words were enough to convey the depth of her as she stared solemnly into that black hole. She stared unblinkingly into that darkness, feeling as if the dark of the world was there- and felt nothing. All she knew were her hands, against the edge of it. The cold this close to him made her numb. To everything.

"Isn't this strange? I should be afraid but somehow I feel as if- I already knew this was here. That I already knew-" she couldn't finish the thought, as her eyes did not waver from that circle of black. Beckoning in its darkness. Now more than ever, she could feel it- the divergence. _This was wrong._ Her being still here- was wrong. This had gone beyond the boundaries of school girl crush- _this was wrong_. Every fabric of her being, from the Goosebumps along her bare shoulders to the hairs rising on the back of her neck- could_ feel_ that this was wrong. This unnatural being standing before her was not human. But she could think of nothing but-

"Onna." His voice broke the silence. "You know what I am." And she did know. Suddenly and without warning- she knew.

"No." She lied.

"A Hollow." His eyes never left hers, gauging her. She was silent for once, no longer fumbling, without the radiance of her youthfulness, chatter or passion. Her eyes were calmer than they ever had been, lit from within but not wholly from love now but…a sudden blossoming self-awareness. She could not feel the reality of her fear- because he would not allow her. She had wanted this. She would have it.

"A Hollow…" She tested the term hesitantly, her eyes never leaving that circle of black, struggling to come to grips with the reality of it- of this- even if it were staring her straight in the face. Even if she knew. That thought alone kept the hysteria at bay- knowing that somehow she had known. All this time, like a forgotten secret. She had known this. She didn't question it. She had always known…_right?_ That his heart was cold and empty, that he _couldn't _be touched?

"…it sounds so lonely."

He didn't say anything to that. She hadn't expected him too. He stepped away from her, and her hand hovered for a moment in the air before she withdrew it. She had grown accustomed to many different types of silence since she had known him. There had been tense silence, filled with all of her passion unleashed and his frustrations held tightly in restraint. Silences filled with gaps she could never jump and mountains she could never climb. There had been silence that had been bubbling with her fear. The silence of darkness, of chains and screams- and hands. But never like this.

Waiting. And this time, for once, she knew what he wanted her to say.

She wondered if she should even acknowledge it, even say anything. As her eyes followed the chain, sprouting from her chest. Draped in coils across the floor, around her feet, rattling silently with her every breath. Her eyes followed it up the length of his leg- until it vanished in the depths of his pocket, where she knew it was tightly wrapped around his fist. She was dead on her feet, as if she were no longer in control of her own body, as if she were a spirit haunting herself. Her eyes trailed up the length of him, to emerald eyes. His gaze had not wavered for a single moment, it never had. But it searched her now with an intensity that she was surprised to realize she understood.

"And Hollows are…born from…the souls of humans." She began slowly, suddenly, surprised at how easily the words came to mind. As if they had always been there. As if she had always known. A high tremor of panic bubbled in the back of her mind, but one glance into the depths of his eyes and it disappeared. She sucked in a shuddering breath, but continued beneath that gaze. "They are...powerful...corrupt spirits that devour the souls of both the living…and the dead. They feed to fill…the void. And…they wear masks." She stated slowly, subconsciously looking to him for approval.

"That is correct Onna. Hollows feed on mortals in order to survive. These masks are merely visible manifestations of the hearts they lose in death." Still those eyes stared at her, willing her to understand.

"But that's not what you are. You're…" She paused, waiting for the word to find her. And it did. "An…_Arrancar_? They…are like Hollows but…different?"

"That is correct. You will tell me these differences."

"They are...smaller? " She paused, probing her mind. "They are...stronger. They...have hierro...iron skin? And they can...sonido is...moving really fast? Faster than sound. But you are...above that?" She paused, frowning slightly as her head began to throb. _This was wrong_.

For a moment he was silent, but now the ability to interpret this silence alluded her. She imagined he was thinking about something of importance, or whether or not there was anything else she would learn through this new odd link between them. She wondered if he knew why she could feel nothing- trying to discern anything at all was suddenly hard. As if she had forgotten for a moment what it felt like to even _feel._

"Ulquiorra." She began softly, her eyes once more lighting on that translucent chain. As if it weren't really there at all, even though she could feel the weight of it on her chest and hear the clink of the chains in her ears. "Why am I not afraid of this? Why aren't I fighting? I'm not angry or confused I'm just-" She couldn't finish it again, because somehow…

"Onna answering such a question would prove no purpose."

_Ah_ she thought suddenly. Because she already knew right? She wondered why the answer didn't depress her as much as it should. She looked away, eyes downcast as she briefly considered the fact that she was missing another class. Now, the notion seemed unreal. Laughable.

"Because I'm to close to the void. Because I'm not strong enough and...I love you. And because I love you…it makes things this soon after…easier. That's why I can't run away. Because in the end…I don't really want to."

"That is correct. It is only that heart of yours that is keeping you here."

He said it like she knew he would, like it was her fault she was in this predicament. As if he were giving her his approval to condemn herself for her own foolishness. She avoided a response to this, although somehow she knew he was expecting her to give one- to give him something he could easily refute. But she would not give him that, not now. She knew.

"How…does this work?" But it came out sounding like a confession, an admittance of guilt.

He took a measured step away from the doorway- perhaps with this then, she had finally given her compliance. He knew that he had her after all. She would not flee. And she knew it.

"This Onna, is Hollow Human Binding. You have gathered that Hollows feed on Humans in order to maintain physical form in the mortal realm. For Arrancar, the longer we maintain our form in this world, the more reiatsu we require. I am ranked far above those. The higher our rank, the longer we can survive without having to rely on such things. According to my power, I have not needed to feed since I came to the mortal plane. However...it seems that inevitably, more reiatsu than I thought necessary was required and my spiritual pressure was depleted. In the case of such events, a call is instinctively a call is made that calls mortals – that brings our prey to us without causing us to exert extraneous effort. This call can reach a wide range of mortals."

He paused for a moment, the cold emerald of his eyes turning towards her. In a single moment he took her in with a measured glance- and she felt something in her sing. She fought the urge to look away.

"-the very notion of feeding from them in any form, thoroughly disgusts me. I loathe humans."-she felt a cold tremor shake her body, and she lowered his eyes to the floor. She could almost taste the cold edge of his uncaring hate.

"They are all trash hardly worth the effort."

'_Trash.'_ The word was familiar to her. She had been on the end of it once. She remembered that cold alley, bruised knees and mascara burning as it blackened her tears. She didn't dare remind him of that moment when she had been as such to him. The distance he kept between himself and everyone else- that proud straight back. Like a god among them, openly mocking them for their fallacies by wholly ignoring them, acknowledging them only through the sheer might of his indifference. She felt her hand ball into a fist. What was she to him in this moment? A joke that never got funny? A hindrance that wasn't as much as others? She remembered the call- that something that had dragged her into a waking nightmare that robbed her of herself. She hadn't gone so willingly because she was weak, but because it had come from _him._

"Murcialago chose you. For reasons still undetermined, you alone heard and heeded the call. It seems that you Onna, have the proper potential capability to accept the bonds of my spiritual pressure."

She shook her head at that, feeling a sudden murmuring along the chain that wouldn't let his words rest so easily within her. Of something within her, weary and tired, stirring to life. That...couldn't just be it...right? She blinked as she could feel the edge of though slowly returning to her, alleviating the weight of the stupor taht seemed to be smothering her. There were plenty of people perhaps who were as easily awed by him as she was. It could have been anyone. There were many who could have been far weaker than her in this. But it had been her- only her. _Her. _As if awakening from a dream, she felt some semblance of truth that was not his own return to her. She lifted her head and met his eyes.

"No…That's not it. You- you _chose_ me."-his eyes narrowed at her, and in that very moment she felt something in her return. She blinked as her mind cleared, and she raised her head as the words came, not heeding the warning in his eyes as she took a step forward. "Because..._I am the one_ who loves you." Another step, her hand of its own will, reaching for him. "You called it a curse, an inconvenience and yet…here we are." Another step, nearer, feeling the confidence returning as she stared him down, straight into his barely widening eyes. "You said we are bound. But if I am bound then so are y-"

And before she could blink she was on the floor. Stunned and dazed, she couldn't begin to explain how she had gotten there, only that one moment she had been standing, and the next- the cold chill of linoleum against her cheek. She tried to move, and realized with a sudden chill that her body felt like dead weight. As if every bone supporting has just crippled beneath her flesh. She blinked in confusion, her vision beginning to blur with tears she didn't know she had, aware suddenly of nothing but the dark of his shadow towering over her. And emerald eyes. Slicing her too pieces.

"I will not be challenged Onna. Your freedom is no longer your own. Rise against me again and you will be punished for your insolence."

She stared at him in disbelief, as injustice of the act hit her. She had learned that he was capable of many things, but this moment fully broke through her daze. She dared not speak lest some other horrible fate befall her, but with an almost sullen silence, she stared up into his eyes as her will returned. She refused to answer him. So this was the nature of things now? She could have laughed until the tears came- was this fate, granting her wish? Was this was she got for wanting him? This curse? This was not an opportunity for her to know the depths of his heart- or him to fully appreciate hers. This was fate mocking her. She got it- it wasn't that he wouldn't have her- she couldn't have him. The chains of her soul in his hands proved that- this had gone far beyond the bounds of her love- this was more, so much more. She couldn't get herself together enough to fight against this- and the numb of her was frightening- but it was because of him. Too close to the cold of his chest, the chain in his hand.

She let her eyes speak against him, as she held her mouth tight. His eyes pierced her like a blade and yet- there was something more- as he met her eyes. As if…taken back…for a moment by the look in her eyes. She did not know what he saw there- but whatever it was- she knew he could not grasp it.

His eyes bored intensely into her own, as if he could feel the force of the slighted look on her face. "I do not understand you Onna. Does this 'love' not mean absolute obedience? Does this 'love' not mean baring any amount of pain? Any amount of suffering?" He continued, and she could remember clear as day, the echo of her words in the dark of the basement.

_{You're wrong." She began quietly, and she could feel her eyes soften as she continued to peer hesitantly into the depths of his. She wanted him to understand. She wanted him to know. "I know about pain. There's nothing more painful than loving someone… who won't even try to love you back. There's no fear like loving someone… knowing at any moment that they could slip from between your hands. And knowing that… they were never yours to claim anyway. There's… nothing like that, not in the whole world."}_

"Does this 'love' not mean you do what you must to prove it? Does this love not mean that you submit? " The echo of her words, coming full circle to haunt her.

_{"It's fine. D-Do your worst. Do your worst because I love you. Do your worst because that isn't going to change, no matter how much you push me away, no matter how much you hurt me."}_

All valid conclusions that she could not deny…because they came from her. He had seen them in her- he had seen for himself in the way she refused to let him go. He had seen it in the way she had borne everything to get closer to him. He had seen it for himself- and for him- seeing it made it truth. Truth she could not deny. She had taught him- through her actions, through her words- with every single moment- she had shaped his perceptions of 'love'. And maybe to him, for him- this was the height of it.

His chain binding them- although everything he said seemed to be a statement of fact- she knew he was just regurgitating information he had gleaned from her. He still had not grasped it, had still failed to understand it. But his eyes met hers as if he were daring her to contradict him. She felt her eyebrows arch over grey eyes, glad that her immobile body did not allow her to fear as she felt the words fighting to the front of her mind.

"How many times must I tell you? That's not how it works! Real love is equal, two people working together to make each other happy! Real love is…" she paused, realizing for once, forever it seemed, the futility of her words. Just as he had failed to truly understand her- she had failed at learning from him. Now bound- doomed?- to repeat past errors and mistakes. She didn't know what was what anymore.

Another pause, as he considered this, grappling she knew, with her adding on to the definition he had carefully constructed through observation. The divergence between the reality of the hole in his chest and the chain between them, undermined the truth in her heart. _A Hollow. A Arrancar_. What did those words truly mean? She couldn't even begin to understand the nature of the things she had been talking about. Masks and...centuries of..._hunger and hate. _She felt her head begin to ring- the sound of the carefully suppressed fear and hysteria beginning to bubble to the surface. He was- she tried to feel it- but she couldn't. _He won't let me. _ She thought suddenly, with startling clarity. _'He's...stopping me from questioning, from...fighting...because if he doesn't_..._I'll go mad from the revelation.' _Of the worlds beyond the mortal plane, of terms and concepts and stories drifting aimlessly across her subconscious. Thoughts that were not her own- but him, placing them into her mind, the cold linger of him echoing through her head. _Soul Reapers live in Soul Society. They carry zanpukto's, which they use to slay and purify hollows. Hueco Mundo...is where Hollows come from. __There are many types of Hollows. Arrancar_ _are above them. And we-he- is above those. The last order. The strongest. The Espada._

His words were clear, bringing her to focus, away from the whispers in her head. Away from the madness, that he held down with a cold hand. Away from the fears he would not let her feel, the questions. She could focus on naught but him- her love for him. _But this was wrong. _That cold was not love, but loyalty.

"…Then you would prefer being a comrade? Do you not have the object you desired, the attention of the one in whom you strove so hard to believe? Thus the distinction is irrelevant to this conversation. You have made countless attempts to define this 'love'. Is this not a willing compromise? I have ceased my condemnation of the term- and will no longer refute the folly of it. You are free to 'love' as you wish. You will simply do so under more strict obligations. And you have no one to blame but yourself."

She understood him damn him, understood him in all of his cold, calculating beauty. This _was_ his compromise. This _was_ his reply.

"I didn't understand…I didn't know what was happening! I…I just thought…I…" What had she been thinking when she heard that call? Had she been thinking at all, of anything? Had it been a moment of weakness? Or if he had called her to her face as a lover- would she not have run towards with everything she had? Would it not have been the same?

_Get away from his chest. _Her mind told her- to get away from that hole, that void that was greedily devouring her everything. The bounds had loosened, the pain gone, and she hurriedly scooted away from him as far as she could, until her back hit the wall. His eyes followed her. And instantly- things were clearer- she could-

"Nonsense. I gave you a chance to deny this…you choose not to adhere. You are only bound because you willed it so."

"What do you mean? I…" She paused, confused. The call had come and then…she had woken up here. In between? _Remember._ In between…she…what had she done? _She needed to remember. _What could she possibly have done to skew his perception of this between them in so short a time? What had she done that had persuaded him, what could she possibly have done that made him relent to…to this? The chain between them- her fate in his hands. The echo of madness, whispering through her mind as the bond loosened. What had she…

There was almost a sigh- of what? Frustration? Resignation?- from between his lips. He turned, so that he did not have to look at her face. And instinctively, a chill ran down her spine as her temples began to pulse. _No. _she thought suddenly, fiercely as the violence of her feelings socked her in the chest. She leaned forward, her shoulders sagging as she felt her body begin to quiver. He had lifted his hands from the hole into which her feelings had receded, and like blood from a wound they came spilling out, sharp and raw. _I didn't want this. I didn't know what this meant. I can't. Please. _She wanted to call out to him before it was too late, as she began to choke on very breath, heaving as she began to tremble. _Not like this- nothing I could have wanted could have been this- I-_but then his voice was sharp and clear in her ears, a prequel to the pain she could see coming, like standing on a beach and watching the tide come. But it would not be gentle- and she could see it coming, the true horrow of it dawning on her as it drew closer. A tide of black, of fear, of madness, of suffering, lapping at her ankles, to pull her under.

_No. _She shuddered, eyes wide. But nothing in her power would allow her to shut them, and without his hands to stop the flood, she knew it would sweep her under and she would not come back up. _Ulquiorra!_ She wanted to scream, robbed of speech as she saw the night coming for her, to devour her whole. _Please!_ She couldn't breathe! She was on the edge of the pit, and she could feel the cold of his hand pushing her over the edge of the world into the dark.

She could not see his face as the night came and swallowed her, as he slowly closed his eyes, to shut out the sight of her being dragged into the abyss.

"Remember Onna. And succumb to your fate."

* * *

_She stood in darkness._ _Watching the way_ _the ghost of her leaned against the back of his chair, her hair cascading down his shoulder in a silken curtain. The empty look of hunger in gray eyes that couldn't have been hers._

_["Please-" she could hear those soft words murmuring in the confines of her mind, and she spoke them again. The dark pit of her soul unleashed, brought to the surface. Thhis shadow wasn't afraid to beg. She would have begged, on hands and knees, she would have begged without the slightest semblance of guilt, regret or remorse._

_"Please." The need in her voice, for this, for him.]_

_**"No...that's not me. That's not me!"** But words screamed in silence were words left unsaid. It had been her.  
_

_[And she could feel it again, as if she were in the shadow's place. The cold of his chest beneath her hands, her lips trailing hotly against his skin. She could feel him anew, feel the taste of cold against her lips. She couldn't breathe as the memory assaulted her, the unrepentant force of Ulquiorra's strength leaving her thoughtless and empty. she…she had wanted…she needed…those hands. Those cold, unmerciful hands. Those eyes. Those bottomless pits of the deep. She needed- and she was the one tilting his head back with her hands, seeing him through the haze, the gleaming amber pits of his eyes. And she had known he had needed it, needed her- and she lowered her lips to his because he needed her-and his words-]_

_**"Stop it Ulquiorra."** She murmured softly, feeling her body outside of this hell begin to quiver as she wrapped her arms around herself in the dark, fighting the cold, the hysteria._

_["Onna. I release you from the bonds my spiritual pressure has placed upon you."]_

_And- she watched as the demon talked to her, watched the awareness, the fear playing across her face. She saw herself, on the floor, her eyes wide and startled as she had taken in his glory. The dragon. The resignation in his voice as he had turned away from her. She felt- as if it were all happening again- the lilt of pity in her heart from the look in his eyes.  
_

["_You would be wise to leave, and not return. If you choose to accept these terms, I will have you freed from all recollection of these events. You will be able to return to your normal life relatively unscathed. That is the most logical course of action."]_

_She sucked in a breath as she felt the hole in her chest pulsing, singing with the repressed memory. It wanted to remind her of the moment when she succumbed, the moment when she had given her everything unknowingly to being far beyond her comprehension. But she didn't want to know, she didn't want to know she just- she wanted things to go back to the way they were, when she had been ignorant and stupid and in love and-_

_[And those amber eyes stared at her from some pit deep within himself into which he had receded, ragged streaks of black descending from his eyes down the plane of his cheeks. Twin horns made of bone protruded from the depths of inky black hair, flowing down the length of his back- and white strips of cloth hung in taters around all-encompassing wings of night. Like the wings of some great bat, stretched taunt over a delicate frame…]_

_**"Stop it Ulquiorra!"** She practically screamed, as she bent over, heaving brokenly in the darkness. **"Let me out of here! Don't do this to me!"**_

_[And the hole-! The gaping hole, the gaping hole which bled black in a heavy stream that vanished into the darkness at his waist-]_

* * *

**"Stop it!"** She screamed louder, in agony as her head pulsed as if it would split in two, as she fought with every ounce of her being against him, against the night and the madness. She screamed her frustration into the empty silence of the dark room, but no one could hear her cries and her only witness was the man who was making her suffer-

"No." His voice was level. Unfeeling. Cold. But his emerald eyes...were emptier than ever as she fought against the darkness he was pouring into her mind.

"The choice was yours to make. And now you will suffer because of it."

* * *

["_I want to be the one that you love. And until then…I'm sure that…I'll wait. For as long as it takes, I'll wait."]_

**_"Stopitstopitstop it!"_** _She screamed loudly, on the verge of tears even though she knew the effort was futile as the cry caught in her throat, as the scream was swallowed by the darkness. She felt as if she had been thrown from the edge of the world, because she could feel him, the entirety of him in this moment in the dark with her and he-_

_She could see him, the dragon sitting on his throne, her head against his lap. The absolute love, the devotion in her eyes._

_["__If I could dream of you forever and ever, just like this, I would be more than happy. At least in my dreams…I can touch you and speak to you, and at least I can be with you just like this and you don't push me away. At least in my dreams…I can pretend you love me too."]_

___She could feel the words in her chest as the girl with the hair like sunset spoke them, looking up into the eyes of the beast. Calm and unafraid. Because she had loved him and he- the girl that was her and not her couldn't understand the hate in amber eyes. But she- a ghost in her own mind watching it all unfold again before her- she could see. She knew it- the cold in his eyes as the girl with gray eyes spoke her love, as it fell on deaf ears.  
_

_[He would make her suffer. He would make her grieve. He would make her rage, loath, hate- he would break her, the fool. He would break her. He would break her because she would not give up, not give him up. He would break her because if she was the pinnacle of emotion, of joy and love, then he was the blackest pits of despair. Break her. Because it was his nature. Because she willingly held the keys to her own demise. How could she expect more from him, how dare she ask more of him? To ask more of him, to want more of him, more of him to put into this world, to be contaminated, dredged in its filth.]_

**"**_**I didn't ask for this!"**_ _ she screamed, writhing in her arms in indefinable agony, a cold sweat on her forehead as the assaulted force of his darkness submitting her was beyond description, incapable of being explained or defined, a weight on her chest that wouldn't let her breathe, as if the cold bite of the chain was around her neck, choking her._

_And she could feel it coming, every single moment she had denied in the darkness, coming to fruition as she turned. And in the gloom, in reality, she felt her heart shudder to a stop as she watched. As she watched with her own eyes- the story coming full circle. Watched as the dragon devoured her._

_Stunned, she watched as the girl fell to the ground, and he fell with her, the hair like sunset gleaming like a beacon in the night. Wanting to scream and scream as she watched the girl's hands wrap themselves eagerly around the cold of his back. "**No. That can't be..."** Watching as the girl with gray eyes rolled her body beneath the dragon's cold skin, trying to warm him with the very heat of her flesh. The way her face was flushed wit heat, panting heaving breaths. **"No...stop it...don't do this...don't do this Ulquiorra...not like this."**_

_The way dark lips sunk into her flesh, feeding from the hole in her chest that only now she could see. The way the girl beneath him had cried out against the feeling she could not understand, the feeling of her very soul being tasted, as his mouth had worked against her flesh. The feel of fangs, drawing against her skin- the way clawed hands had wrapped around her waist, holding her still. The way the girl's eyes ground shut, the panting growing heavier, exuberant cries on her tongue._

_She turned away from the madness before her eyes, willing the dark away, praying the dark away.  
_

_**"I don't want to see anymore of this Ulquiorra! Don't show me anymore!"**_

_And then he was there in the dark with her, the cold ghost turning her to face it, the memories she wanted to forget. Holding her hostage, not allowing her to escape, not allowing her to turn away._

_**"Onna you will watch. Watch what I have done to you. For there is your answer."**_

_And she was helpless as she watched, as she was forced to remember with her body, with the very chains of her soul, what that answer had meant.  
_

_[The feeling of warm steel wrapped around her wrists, as she writhed and ground beneath him. A pain so intense- that it was no longer pain. It was pleasure, raw pleasure, beyond her comprehension, beyond her ability to comprehend. Her eyes rolled in her head, speech a garbling mess in her throat- as his tongue rolled hungrily against her, tasting the sweat of her skin, the sweetness of her virgin flesh. Unable to breath as the waves of euphoric madness rolled throughout her body, she could only quiver violently as clawed hands held apart trembling thighs-]_

* * *

She came to herself, came spiraling out of the darkness to herself with a large, shuddering heave of her chest. She could feel the very air leave her as Ulquiorra freed her from the darkness, and returned her to herself. But not without the lesson, not without a price. She remembered with a tremble- the heat there- the cold of his lips. She shuddered, willing the tears away. He had not been gentle. It had been nothing like the beloved moment she had so fiercely desired, nothing like the tender embrace she had longed for. Only the cold of his lips- the clawed hands, drawing mockingly against her flesh. The cold of his chest, the shadow of wings. And the heat of his tongue…_against her. _In hunger. Cold, hard need.

"Innocence is no excuse." He uttered lowly, as he too, came back from the darkness. But there was no need to reprimand her, as the full brunt of her actions hit her at last. But he would not turn and watch her suffer, his back impassive and cold as he forced her to face it, the reality of the bond, the horror of it…and the barely contained power that lay in the chain between them. In but a moment he had shown her. He could protect her from her darkest fears, free her from every feeling- or he could force her to face them, and the things she dared not remember. This lesson, she had learned well. With every fiber of her quivering body, every shuddering breath. The tears she had cried in the darkness, were hot and real on her face. Illusion or not, the world he had shown her had been nothing but the truth she could not deny. And the reality of this robbed her of her strength. This was not an answer to her dreams, her fantasies, or a response to her love. In many ways, this was an exploitation of them.

And the words that had damned her- the words- she could hear anew as he had pulled her from the darkness…held her captive.

["_I give my everything to you, you can have it! You can have it! You can have it-"]_

She felt her entire body slide against the wall, collapsing sideways, blankly onto the floor against the tile as all of the energy seeped out of her. She felt nothing. She was not angry…or sad. She had no right to either of those feelings- those were for the innocent. But she had known. She'd seen the dragon for herself. And yet she had still…she began to suck in gasping breaths as she felt the force of oncoming tears begin to wrack her body…but she did not even have the strength to cry.

"So now you understand Onna."

His voice did not sound cold...or condescending. His voice was quiet, almost thoughtful, as if after everything- his mind had gone to a place she could not imagine. A place of darkness, she now understood. Not a cave filled with smoke and flame where he ate princesses, but into the darkness she had felt echoing in her thoughts. She shivered and willed herself to stillness as he walked back to the door.

"There will be no more discussion on this matter."

And she heard the rattle of chains as he locked the door, with a note of finality.

* * *

_AN: I know. It's been awhile, longer than I ever thought it would take for me to update._ _I don't want to sound like a pussy, but I feel terrible for taking this long. I've had a rough year. A close family member died and one of my close friends tried to commit suicide, another diagnosed with depression and a whole lot of other real life shit I couldn't ignore_. _But I at least owe you guys that much- and I just want to thank everyone whose been with me this far. I'm not going to say that I hope everyone will come back, but I will be thankful for anyone who still decides to follow this story to the end. I'm sorry for the extreme lateness, but I just hope I can be forgiven. I love this story and I'm absolutely not going to give up on it, no matter what! So if you'll believe in me till the end, I'll thank you. If you call bull shit...I get that too._

_But enough about my hard life, all I can say is shit happens. I'll probably be back to my chippy hyper ass self by next chapter, just not this one. I've had some hard revelations myself, just like poor orihime._

-_It's weird to me that when I started this, I wasn't sure how dark or deep I was going to get- but this is the crossroad folks._ _Orihime has reached a crucial point- will she fight against the bonds of the chain, or be broken by them? After all she's playing catch up too game with rules she couldn't begin to understand. I'm hoping some of you were able to figure out some of the particulars of the 'Human Hollow Binding' if all went according to plan. I hope most of got that the stuff in [brackets] was Orihime caught in 'the darkness' aka her mind and being forced to watch what had happened. Ulqui is such a slave driver jeez  
_

_-And what is Ulquiorra thinking anyway? I'm sure to him he see nothing wrong with this- he didn't let himself die, and he gave her the closeness she wanted right? And wtf I totally keep coping out on fight scenes. Maybe I'll actually write the next one...mehbe._

_ALSO STILL NEED A BETA DAMN._

_And Disclaimer: My ass still don;t own pocket lint, much less bleach_


	10. Embraced By Desolation

**[A**_l__**iC**_e** I**n _C__h_**a**i_n__**s]**_

_**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**_

_**[Embraced By Desolation]**_

* * *

__The night passed, and when dawn came she found herself leaving his apartment to begin the slow trek down to her own. Her steps were measured, slow, as she took in the bright rays of a new day as the sun rose. The morning air was cool, comforting against her bare shoulders and against the sweat tinged column of her neck. The wind took away the scent of her fear, of her tears- and left her feeling new, refreshed. She found that in this moment, she could think of nothing besides the echo of her foot steps against the landing. _Pit Pat._ She thought calmly, carefully. _Pitter Patter._

He…had done nothing more to her after that. He had let her stay where she lay, shuddering and anxious, until exhaustion had thrown her into a fitful slumber. She had dreamed of nothing but darkness. But in that darkness had been the silence of an empty tomb, the cold voice of an ageless grave. When she awoke, he had been gone- leaving only a perfectly scrawled note on the empty counter for her to find.

'_When you awaken, proceed about your day as normal. Return to your daily duties and obligations, and explain yourself for your absence. If you are needed, you will come.'_

He had not signed his name.

Without the cold of him close to her, she could not hear the rattle of chains as she walked, only the _pitter patter _of her feet. She didn't know where her books were, nor her keys- probably still sitting where ever she had left them when she had…answered the call. She almost chuckled at the thought of her abandoned books looking for her- going on a journey to find her so she could get home- but the beginnings of her laughter dried up into a weary smile.

"_**So there is your answer."**_

_Yes. _She answered quietly, in her mind. But there was no cold ghost on the edge of it, watching…listening. It was just her, and the her she had always known. She was free now, not bound- to cry if she wanted, jump for joy, dance and laugh- if she still knew how. How could she be expected to just…be the same now? How could he expect her to just…go back to normal, at the flip of a switch? Just like that…just that easily…like a broken doll that would rise any number of times. But she got it. _He thinks that now probably…finally…for once and for all he has broken me._

And…maybe he was right. Was she broken now? Since she had seen it for her own eyes, the way the very love in which she had so passionately believed had…betrayed her. It was worse than the callous cold of his hands against her, than the empty kiss he gave her, than the inhuman way he had answered her. It was colder, harsher somehow- knowing for once, finally that his words had struck her in a place from which she could never recover. And there would be no more womanly rage- unlike before, when in that single moment she had struck him across the face- for mocking her and her feelings. There would be no more righteous rage now. That well deserved strike, the girl she had been in that moment, was gone. There was nothing. Only this silent acceptance.

Because of her love…her naïveté… she had become prey. Had anything changed she wondered…truly wondered? She was practically a slave now…probably…a toy to be played with…surely any hope or love to be had…was gone. _Poof,_ she thought, calmly, so calmly, _and the birds fly away._

She stumbled down the stairs to the lobby, walking in and collapsing on the first couch she saw with a sigh she couldn't restrain. She sat, leaning back, breathing deeply and thinking of nothing. Not the time passing by, counting down to her being late for her first class. Not the anxious looks on her friend's faces, not on Tatsuki's biting words or her regret. She plopped down on the couch, listening to the rusty springs creak beneath her weight in reply. She turned, laying sideways against the old worn fabric, letting her feet dangle and her hair water fall in a sunset colored stream onto the floor.

She was tired. She wanted nothing but the empty abyss of sleep. No dreams. She didn't know if she even wanted to wake up to this- this reality. But more than that she wanted….

"…_**Your freedom is no longer your own."**_

_Yeah._ She thought with sadness, with emptiness. _I know. But you didn't have to take it. You didn't have to take anything. It could have all been yours. It already…was yours. If you had only…_She stopped the train of thought abruptly as she felt the tears begin, the cry she had never unleashed threatening to unwind her right here. Not a cry of frustration, or even sadness. After the first time those cold hands had stifled her blaze, she had cried like she hadn't since her brother died. But this was not a hard sob of mourning, of insurmountable loss. This was different. Darker. Beyond her. This was it. Building in her chest, swelling in the silence of this room. A cry of absolute defeat.

'_Love….did I ever know anything? I was so certain...once. But now…' _She didn't know. She didn't know anything. She only knew that this feeling was what he had been trying so hard to get out of her for so long. Would he be proud if she told him she finally understood what he meant?

_**"… Do you not have the object you desired, the attention of the one in whom you strove so hard to believe? …You have made countless attempts to define this 'love'. Is this not a willing compromise? ...You are free to 'love' as you wish. You will simply do so under more strict obligations."**_

"_**And you have no one to blame but yourself."**_

Yeah this was it, she was certain. In this moment as she lay on an old couch in a lonely lobby, listening to time sifting through her hands. This was it, she thought as the tears began to form in her eyes. Here it was, clawing at the inside of her chest, stealing her breath. Beyond redemption, with no hope of salvation. Utter Despair.

* * *

Some shit had happened- exactly what, fuck if he knew or cared, not anymore. He wasn't too much of a dumb shit to not know that two of the bastards he hated the most in the world had probably forced his hand into something he wasn't sure he would like. But he wasn't a fool either. Whenever that pink haired bastard started running his shit hole of a mouth and started telling them what to do, there was usually one probable cause- survival.

He didn't know how he felt about life- sometimes he didn't even know if he wanted it, but he damn sure didn't want to know what death felt like. And it was all so fucking stupid, so cheap- he had not fought for survival in the filth of a hundred other putrid, screaming souls to be born-only to die like some shit faced coward in some back alley hell hole. He had not shed blood, _he had not spilled it_- he had not fought and cursed and suffered to be snuffed out like some candle in the wind. Fuck this curse that was his existence- it could ruin as much shit as it liked, it could drive him to the edge of madness if it wanted to, and he really didn't give a fuck. But dying like a dog beneath the blade of some pompous ass was the one thing he wouldn't allow. Fuck soul society and every soul reaper out there whose sword hungered for his blood. _Fucking hypocrites. _They still didn't know shit about anything. They were dogs marked for death, but that didn't make it any less bitter. They didn't know shit- not about the war, the why- and why them. It was almost kind of funny, knowing that those all-knowing bastards could be so stupid about something so simple.

He walked down the street at a leisurely stroll, a fluid, languid movement that always whispered of the violence bubbling in his blood. He couldn't control it, nor did he even make an attempt. Let the mortals cower before him, let them feel the presence of the predator in their midst, let them tuck their tails and _**run**_. He'd forgotten how to do anything but snarl, a permanent smirk of violent joy always etched into the lines of his face. Even when calm his eyes were wild- and even like this- one look was enough to send mortals scattering away from his path. _Fucking humans, _he couldn't help but think, resisting the urge to spit by drawing heavily on the cigarette perched between his lips. The feeling of blackening smoke sliding down his lungs, choking the breath he could not draw made him smile. Then, remembering why he was ignoring the duty that was his burden made the hate come fierce and strong through his chest.

He'd let the little shits go- Ichibitch and that other undersized slut- and he damn sure didn't like the thought of it. The thought that in that single moment, he had stopped himself- for what? For the sake of a few putrid, damned lives? For survival, right? That same old bullshit. The smug look on that bastards face was one that made the rage smart in his chest, hot and raw. Him. Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, with a soul as black as night, a hole in his chest and destruction as his birthright, allowing some young, trifling piece of shit think that he was not a force to be feared, or reckoned with. _If you only knew_, he thought angrily, bitterly. _I would gnaw that heart right out of your fucking chest. I would break every single one of those fucking limbs, I would rip out your tongue, pick my fangs with your bones, and jump rope with your spine.' _

It seemed like every day he woke up pissed- angry at everyone, at everything- and what was one day going to do? Get him kicked out? He didn't give a damn if he failed with flying colors, he had seven degrees lost somewhere among the filth of his room, and he damn sure didn't need another one.

He tried to get his mind off of that dangerous tangent - if he kept fucking around with the rage he could barely contain, he would be dead before the day was out. As if anyone else would give a fuck. He'd be just another failure, just another corpse, just another dead hollow rotting in some damned state of existence between heaven and hell.

But more than that- he wondered what the hell had happened to that girl. Grey eyes and sunset hair. That stupid smile, those fucking eyes. The last he'd seen of her she had been a limp form sprawled on his living room couch- broken. After he had woken up with a hell of a headache and coughing up blood, Syazel had laughed in his face when he had asked about her, the little shit. He figured that should have been his first clue- as far as he knew he hadn't seen her at school since. But then again, hell he was usually so busy cutting class she could have easily been there. He didn't know why he still gave a damn- stupid bitch was probably fine.

_"Everyone else makes you out to be this really scary, out of control monster, but you seem okay to me!"_

The thought of those words now, echoing in his head in that voice like summer, bright and warm, made a shudder he didn't like roll down his back. Disgust? Stupid bitch. What the fuck would he know about that, about any of it? How could he know shit about anything? He wasn't human.

Anyone would want a bitch like that broken. In retrospect, he damn sure couldn't blame Nnoitra for it. The very existence of pure hearted idiots like her, should have pissed him off too. The very notion of self-righteous fools like her and all of her kind, should have stirred the rage stoking in his chest by default. The very thought of anyone living happily while they rotted in misery was usually more than enough to set him off. There was no finer way to bring forth the wrath of any hollow than a pure hearted soul living life well. It was spitting in their faces, it was cursing every single ounce of their putrid, sin ridden, bloodstained lives. Any self-respecting hollow would have devoured her whole and left no semblance of her pointless existence behind. Any self-respecting hollow would have wanted her broken and groveling, crawling through blood and blinded by tears. Nnoitra had only listened to his instincts- a part of it may have been his twisted sexual urges- but it was more than that. It had been that despair that marked him, whispering to him to make another human girl as miserable as he was by taking something from her she could never get back. Her dignity, her purity- something these mortals held in high regard. He'd only fucked up when he'd let that curse coerce him into following up prey he had no right taking. Other than that…hell, he hadn't been wrong.

_It was only…_he growled, gnawing on the end of the rapidly disappearing cigarette as he strode up the steps to their apartment complex. _Stupid Bitch. _They weren't human. And she damn sure shouldn't have tried to treat him like one.

He roughly kicked open the door to the lobby, and paused in the doorway. And in that single moment, he could hear the roar of the world echo in his ears. A silent scream lost in darkness, the scent of stagnant air and flowers wilting at the bottom of a well. For one moment, he felt the madness creeping along his spine so strongly that he could almost hear the rattle of chains in darkness. And he wanted to throw his head back and laugh as dim grey eyes met his.

* * *

"It won't be long now."

Emerald eyes didn't meet his, hadn't acknowledged him for some time now. He was fine with that he was- the maddening smile on his face was smug, lazy and confident. _My dear Cuarto,_ he thought almost good-naturedly, as he listened idly for the rattle of the chains that he could not hear. He was content with just that- it had not been his bond to make. But he smiled like the cat that ate the canary, as he breathed in the scent of a beast well fed.

It took more will than he believed himself capable of, to not explode into laughter at this very moment- and risk ruining everything, risk dying at the height of his triumph. But tonight he would laugh- until the world ended, until the walls fell, he would laugh himself into oblivion, into the madness that was his namesake. Tonight he would drink. Drink to this- the chains, the victory, the girl. He would drink to that girl until he was drunk- what kind of face did she make, he wondered with a smile- when she faced the beast? Had she _cried_? Had she _begged_? Had she groveled for escape, for mercy? Or had she gone to him like a fool, poor fool, with her delusional notions of love? He wanted to know- he was _dying _to know what drifted behind emerald eyes.

_Did it please you, dear brother, when you fed from her willing body? Did she taste of everything I thought she would? Of innocence, of purity…young, delicious and ripe?_

He turned, grounding his face into his palm as he thought of her, poor fool. Was she broken now, he wondered, broken beyond repair? He wanted to see her for himself, he wanted to stare in her face and laugh at her tears. Maybe hug her close to the cold of his madness and thank her…for being such a willing sacrifice.

"Yes...it seems we miscalculated. Ichigo Kurosaki alone would have died a miserable death. But it seems he had other comrades who were able to help him send the Menos Grande back to the other side."

The man stood on the edge overlooking the city, a pale figure clothed in black and white, his hands in his pocket. Syazel could easily imagine that they were the only colors the man owned, because perhaps, subconsciously they were the only things that did not remind him of other things. Of brighter things, happier things. Of a life unlived.

And his form had always been languid, fluid- like the capable man who feared nothing. The feeling that there was something inside of him that was carefully contained, controlled and bound. The feeling that although the man could look him square in the eyes, there was nothing behind him. He could clearly remember the brief shiver of revulsion he had felt the first time he saw those emerald eyes. Emptiness.

"No." Now his voice was clearer, stronger- since he had fed. Those cold words spoke of something deeper, a clear tone of command with the promise of violence. Syazel struggled to control himself.

"Nothing has changed. Soul Society will send soul reapers to take back Rukia Kuchiki, and punish her for involving mortals. Ichigo Kurosaki, as well as his comrades, will be appropriately dealt with. Soul Society will not allow such trash to live."

"You seem certain."

-the sound of silence. The sound of silence and death and chains and emptiness. He could almost hear the echo of her screams- if he listened hard enough.

"Octavia."

He nearly bit the flesh of his palm in anticipation, as a very real tremble began to run down his spine.

"Yes?"

"Within a few days' time, the Soul Reapers will come for Rukia Kuchiki. I however, will be leaving immediately to go on a reconnaissance mission."

He drew himself together abruptly, momentarily struck by the sudden nature of the request. His face fell, and it was a moment before he caught himself from revealing the truth of his thoughts. _So suddenly? So soon?_ But surely- the girl! There was a real bubble of a panic he could not suppress choking his words, and he stumbled to regain his calm. _Had they been too late? Had he decided after all, to walk forward into the abyss? _He hurried to compose himself, willing the tone of skepticism to not color his words. Challenging the man in any form at this moment could prove disastrous. He kept his voice calm, quiet, rational.

"…Ulquiorra…" he began carefully, "I do not believe that-"

"Octavia. In what you believe is irrelevant to this conversation. You will not speak to me of something as pointless as belief. I will tell you of what you must do in my absence and you will follow my orders. That is all there is to the matter."

He sucked in the words quivering on the edge of his tongue, feeling all the bitterness of a whipped dog rolling in his belly. Not even he could find any amusement in this. He held the cold bite of anger, and smothered it beneath his tongue.

"If I may Ulquiorra- I don't believe the others will approve of this."

Both those eyes were brighter now, like polished emeralds, gleaming malevolently in the shadows of mid-morning. Cutting him down to size. He nearly took a step back, startled by the promise echoing in the depths of a gaze that had only been empty before. That cold mechanical violence that had once been the only sign of his anger, of his interest, was amplified. It was no longer subtle- it was the feeling of a cold blade at his neck, whispering dangerously against his skin as he looked into those eyes.

"Then have them come and face me. I have no time to waste on such trifles. My mission is to assure our survival. If there is any number of you who disagree with my methods, they are free to leave or die by my hand. I will not waste my time on disobedient filth who refuse to adhere to my principles."

_You pompous asshole!_ He thought suddenly, sharply, bitterly as he came to himself. _Get the taste of virgin on your tongue and this is what becomes of you? _He should not have been surprised- Ulquiorra had always done as he pleased, had always acted for their interests, regardless of their individual desires. But for the first time in a long time, he lamented the biting edge to those passionless words. And although he dared not speak it- shivered at that otherworldly something that he had seen lurking in the depth of Ulquiorra's eyes. As if when he had reverted, something inside of him had been freed, some sliver of something either from the man he had been or the monster that he now was. Whatever it was, he wasn't sure it had gone back in.

Perhaps the feeding had changed him in more ways than he had foreseen- although he had done this for all of them, he could not help but wonder if perhaps he had miscalculated.

"I…understand." He ground out harshly, painfully.

"Very well."

"And…there is nothing else you have to say?" He bit his tongue in the heat of his anger, not imagining the bitter tang of his blood in his mouth.

For a moment there was nothing- nothing but the chill of the morning wind in his ears. Emerald eyes stared-unblinking- into the horizon, into the light of the rising sun. He was not blinded by those golden rays, nor did they warm the deathly pale pallor of his skin. He stood motionless before the horizon, cold and untouchable like some figure carved out of ice and stone. Those emerald eyes were dark, but lit from within, as if a light were sinking into the depths of a murky sea.

But there- _in there_- and he almost missed it, the cold murmur of words on the wind. He felt his breath draw up in his chest.

"What…what did you say?"

Emerald eyes leveled at him- and away. _Fool._ He could almost hear the words, echoing in the silence between them. And then he felt the dip in the air, the heavy flavor of barely contained power. The wings unfolded, rippling from between the smooth planes of his shoulder blades, tearing through fabric as they caught on the wind- and he couldn't breathe. The tang of that reiatsu on his tongue, was heavy and deep, like drowning in tears. But those eyes remained in absolute control, even as he staggered for breath, to right himself as those dark wings unfurled. Like the wings of some great bat from hell, black as the dark between the stars against the glow of the morning light. Like some newborn beast's first flight, those wings unfurled into the wind with a whisper, stretching, testing their strength. Stronger now. Unfettered.

"Ulquiorra- what did you say?"

But those eyes ignored him, staring at some point from here to there beyond his realm of sight. Coolly, he rolled the ripped remains of his shirt from his shoulders, his chest pale and strong in the morning light as he flexed his wings.

"I do not like to repeat myself." He murmured icily, coldly as he flapped his great wings, and with a rush of wind that nearly blew the glasses from his face, launched himself towards the sky. He held back his windblown hair with a trembling hand, nearly missing the moment when the void opened for him like some dark pit, a black hole in the sky that swallowed him whole. And then he was gone, and the jaws of garganta closed behind him.

* * *

They faced each other- him, with all of the barely contained ferocity of a prowling beast. Her- like something broken, something that saw death coming and reveled in it. She sat up and faced him- but nothing stirred in those dim gray eyes. She didn't say anything for a moment- silent as she watched the expressions flitting rapid fire across his face. For one moment he looked murderously angry- the next almost horrified- the last as if he wanted to break out into some horrible laughter of strife and madness, or a nightmarish mix of all three. He threw his head back abruptly, violently, and stopped, his eyes towards the ceiling, one callous hand blanketed over his eyes.

"You smell like dead weeds." He barked out, low and harsh. And then- "Why do you smell like that bastard?"

_Ah._ She thought suddenly, clearly, as her eyes saw the point beyond human sight, to the heart of him. And she should have _known,_ she thought- she should have _known_. Everything fell into place so easily, so seamlessly that she wondered how she had been so blind before.

His eyes snapped to hers so harshly she felt as if the gaze should have startled her, should have sent her scurrying away in fear, running away from the sharp accusation in his eyes. Some distant part of herself was aware that this was the first time she had spoken to him since Ul- since he had told her that this man had been the one that had saved her.

"Ah-" she began calmly -knowing that he could not read her thoughts -with a quiet smile as she remembered. "I meant to thank you. I heard that you saved me, so I'm very grateful to you. Surely something really bad was going to happen to me but because of you nothing did so I-"

"**Shut the fuck up**." He snapped at her, his voice hovering on some precipice between a deathly calm and a murderous rage, his blue eyes narrowed and wild as he took a caged step towards her. Then as if he himself were wary of his own action, drew himself up short. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Who?" She asked in a curiously dead tone, her eyes wide and empty as she felt her mouth rolling over the words whispering along the corridor of her memory. "You're Grimmjow Jeagerjaques." She paused, mulling over the way her tongue rolled over the words as he took another step towards her. "The Sexta Espada."

He stopped mid step, and she did not imagine the way his narrowed eyes widened with an emotion she could not identify. She could see the muscles in his arms tense, the veins in his neck begin to pulse, and she did not imagine the barely restrained power that lay in those arms. He could snap her neck if he wanted to, she thought idly. Those rumors had been more than unfounded- they had been so close to the truth that it was laughable. They had only been able to speculate about his ferocity, whisper of his strength. But she knew it now, in this moment. How much self-control did it take she wondered, to hold back everything he was from snuffing the life out of her?

She lowered her head, noting the way her fingertips looked splayed out against the fabric of the worn couch, the cold of the tiles beneath her bare feet. "Did yours hurt too?"

"What?" He asked at her, and she wondered at the tone of his voice. It was a sharp bark of something that was not panic- but pure disbelief. She had almost rendered him- this hulking fear of a man- speechless. She supposed that if she had been in his shoes, her reaction would have been the same.

"The hole in your chest. Did it hurt when you got yours?"

And she looked up at him then, the curiously dead tone of her voice matching the dim of her eyes. And in his moment in which the harsh light of his eyes met the dim gray of hers- he _knew _her. He knew her like he knew Syazel that pink haired bastard's madness, like he knew Nel's insanity and Harribel's sacrifice, like he knew the filth of Nnoitra's soul and the lack of anything in others. He knew her in this moment like he knew rotting green eyes, the bleak look on her face matching one he had never been able to understand.

_Holy Shit. _He thought suddenly, clearly for the first time without the echo of anything close to anger. _That bastard has broken her._

For a moment, there was nothing but the silence of a baited breath- and he was speechless. And then, he could feel the twinge of revulsion, of bitterness, and rage and hate rolling up from the depths of him like some wave that threatened to consume them both. He ground the heels of his palms into his face, drawing in haggard breaths as he felt his pupils begin to dilate. He nearly gnawed his tongue in two, the blood filling his mouth doing nothing to lull him back into a false sense of calm. This was it, quaking, skirting around the edge of the gaping hole in his chest, called forth by dim grey eyes. He felt his hands shake, his body wracking with a wrath so indefinable he couldn't even begin to explain it, only knew the madness of this moment. _**And it was all so fucking stupid It was all so fucking meaningless and nothing mattered and no one mattered Not even him and-**_He had enough sense to know he was reverting, but lacking any of the self-control to stop it. The madness of blooming flowers, wilting, of stagnant air and emerald eyes holding grey ones captive. The madness of that girl and the cold of that man- a madness, a deep seated anger so fierce he couldn't even begin-

'_**I'll fucking kill us both!**_ The roar of that malice screamed in his mind, coaxing him to madness, to violence, to action. Staggering he saw her through blood shot eyes, his vision blurred by the sludge of black tears as he struggled to contain himself. _**I'll eat her fucking heart! I'll fucking kill her! And then! And then-!"**_

_**He'd kill all of them, he wouldn't leave a damn thing left. He would tear her to pieces, tear all of them to pieces- he would- he would-**_

_**Kill all of them! Don't leave a single one left!**_

The madness caught him in a cold fist, and dragged him to the bottom of some black pit from which he could not resurface. He struggled to fight it, but it was stronger than him in this moment, and he'd been a fool to think he could overcome it, to think he even wanted to fight it- this was his birthright, his curse- he'd known from the beginning that it would be his undoing.

_Fuck! __**Fuck! **_He thought clearly, the last conscious thought he had before the dark took him.

* * *

At first, she had only thought idly that the news had disturbed him- she assumed that could only be the case, all things considered. Surely compared to them- compared to such walking gods- the thought that she was now one of them was horrifying. Or laughable. She'd thought only that he had hid his face so he could restrain himself from laughing in her face. Although Grimmjow hardly seemed like the type to consider a woman's feelings, least of all spare her torment. She should have been prepared for his mockery- but she had receded into some quiet corner, into some quiet part of herself that was smothering. She felt as if she were walking in a void, struck blind, deaf and dumb. Nothing felt real to her in this moment- not even the reality of this.

She looked up idly when she noticed the sounds, not even believing she could be surprised at what her eyes found. Grimmjow's hands were clawing at his face, hunched over and staggering on his feet. She did not even pause when she noticed the liquid black oozing from between his fingertips. And when he parted his fingers, the look in his bloodshot eyes should have ended her- it was a look of pure rage- but beyond that- it was-

_Move. You have to move away._

It was- the look of a man gone mad. But it was deeper, it was stronger. It was the look on a man's face when he watched the world end, when he watched the world burn around him and he had struck the match. It was-

_You have to get away! Run!_

_Why?_ She thought calmly, the idea seemed preposterous to her. Why should she want to run? Why should she want to do anything? Nothing mattered anymore. Not even this. What more could be done? What more could be taken?

_He's going to kill you, you stupid girl!_

_Kill me? _She thought slowly, carefully. But he- her eyes followed the way heavy hands grew claws. As if watching from the bottom of a well, smothering beneath the weight of chains. The way he parted his gaping mouth to reveal a row of black stained fangs. The way he rolled his head on his neck, the snap of unworked muscles, unkempt blue hair grew shaggy and wild. Some indefinable noise began in the depth of his chest, a rumble like approaching thunder, as sharp as lightning. It was-

_Orihime!_

_Orihime!_

A chorus of voices called her and she looked up at the very moment that Grimmjow lurched forward with a black grin of madness and hate, wild eyes filled with blood, a clawed hand reaching for the chain at her chest.

* * *

'_Is this the extent then, Onna?'_

_It faced her in the smothering dark that surrounded them, as white as a ghost, like some cold spirit lingering over an empty grave. The black hole of its chest gaped and bled like an open wound, spewing filth in a heavy stream of black against the pale expanse of flesh. Real- solid- yet she knew if she felt him she would be rewarded with the feel of a winter's wind sliding through her fingers. Nothing was certain, nothing was tangible here but for that pit of black, the far off gnashing of teeth and the rattle of chains heavy in her ears. She was blinded by the white, the gloom, the dark, the gleam of amber eyes, yellow and cold, like some suffering snake._

_She didn't know if any of this was real- this convoluted world existing in the remains of her shadowed psyche, this pocket of darkness spiraling in the deepest recesses of her mind. The hands she held before her eyes were pale, transparent- glowing faintly, as if she'd swallowed some fading light, gleaming mutely from beneath her skin. Wispy- as if she were nothing more than a lingering shadow of a girl once known._

_She was tired, she thought. She wanted nothing but to curl up in this darkness and sleep until the end. She'd lay her head at the feet of this beast, and let him devour what was left of her. She didn't want to see him- didn't want to speak to him- didn't even- she didn't even have the right to be frustrated, to be enraged, she was only…tired._

_She didn't say anything, as she lowered her hands, letting her fingers lazily intertwine with each other. Her eyes did not search the darkness- nor did she ignore the presence of the shadow. That, she was certain, would not be allowed. Only this- quiet acceptance._

'_I asked you a question, Onna. Is the current course of events pleasing to you? To die alone like trash?'_

_She didn't say anything, not allowing her eyes to search futilely in the darkness for help that would never come. She didn't want to answer, she didn't even want to speak. She didn't want anything. Nothing but the dark to smother her away, to snuff out the light beneath her skin. To-_

'_Onna.'_

'_What would you have me say?' she whispered brokenly in the darkness, willing her eyes upwards so the shadow could see the death behind them. 'He got what you wanted. He wanted me broken. He wanted me to feel what it was like…true despair. He got his wish. If he can't be happy with anything…he can be happy with that.' _

_For a moment, the silence of the tomb hovered over her, nearly choking her with the scent of stagnant air, of something old and rotting, something ancient. A shiver of cold made her body tremble. Foreign. Unreal. The overwhelming sense that she was standing on the edge of some void she could not fathom. Not like before- like standing frozen on the shore as she watched the dark tide come to seep her away. This was- standing in a pool of black water, feeling the strength of it lapping at her ankles. Barely contained power, whispering in the dark. 'Tread carefully girl'-the tingle of her intuition echoed in her ears-' or you will meet your end.'_

'_Onna.' It said quietly, an amber gaze piercing her as it drew her back to this- a gaze that knew her like no one had known her, not like her friends, not like her brother, not even like how she knew herself. "Surely you are not so presumptuous as to believe that if we had truly desired you broken, there would have been anything left of you. If we had wanted you broken, I would have devoured you whole. I am not a being of half-hearted measures."_

_Something sharp and painful caught in her chest at the way amber eyes gleamed at her from the darkness. Those eyes knew her. Those eyes __**knew **__her. The dragon- she thought clearly, a tremor of fear in her limbs- the dragon knew her in a way the man did not._

'_I took nothing from you that you did not freely give.' It stated simply. And she- felt something in the depth of this shadow, in the depth of this darkness, stir. Something trembling and warm- something she thought he had killed when he had stolen the light from her._

_She tried to hold onto the feeling of the cold, of the dark, of eternal sleep- but those eyes kept her awake and alive, the amber eyed shadow whose eyes were making her remember things she wanted forgotten._

'_Time and time again, Onna, I denied you. I lamented you. I made you grieve. I made you suffer. I hid nothing from you. My intentions- his- were clearly defined. At any moment you could have denied me. At any moment you could have ceased this nonsense. At any moment you could have carried on with the course of your mortal life. He threw you from this path, yet time and time again, you returned.' _

_It let the words hang in the dark between them, and something that could have been strength pulsed dimly in her chest- but she said nothing. Its eyes said everything for her._

'_They are still here, Onna.' It began abruptly, as if it had answered some unspoken question, fulfilled some unspoken request._

'_Who..?' she began quietly, a tremor, a something echoing in her chest. Her words were fragile, broken, lost. 'Who is still here?'_

'_The pieces of you, Onna.' The winged shadow answered her quietly, a murmur in the darkness. 'I did not devour them. They are still yours.'_

_She fumbled with thoughts, with words- wary lest she offend with her ignorance, desperately wanting not to care, and frightened that there was some secret flowing between them, some code that she could not understand. Amongst this darkness she felt an otherworldly chill, more frightening to her in this moment than all the dark of the world around her. Suddenly, amazingly she knew the shadow's name. And she could feel the tomb, the scent of the grave and the ancients, of old blood and the clang of war- centuries carefully concealed in the darkness._

'_What are they?' She began carefully, cautiously hurrying to smother the scent of her fear, lingering around her form like a beacon in the night._

_But the shadow of the dragon blinked its great amber eyes, flicking its tail in the darkness of this dispassionate world._

'_You can hear their voices, Onna. If your soul is still better suited for whimpering pathetically in this darkness, groveling as you search for the end, then come. It will be more than a taste now on my lips, Onna- it will be death."_

_She sucked in a breath she could not draw in the darkness. "You're Murciélago." She finished quietly, resisting the urge to turn tail and run, reeling into the false safety of the darkness, from which she knew would be no escape. _

_But those great eyes burned amber, and she heard the echo of beating wings on a moonless night, hounding her in the gloom, the far off rattle of rusty chains. It was the beast in this darkness, the master of this madness inside of her, inside of him. Whether it was a part of him, a part of her now, greater than him- she knew not. She knew only that this was the essence of that man, the raw power, the age, the true manifestation of the dragon, the source of his hell flame._

_The name hovered between them like a forgotten curse, making the frail wisp of her spirit shiver at the power lurking in its name. It did not answer for a moment, as if that mattered not, as if nothing mattered in this moment._

_But there was a something, stirring in the pit of her, the shade, filling with some swirling warmth she could not explain, a warmth she wanted to deny. It was- an understanding, when she looked into its eyes. Words that he said without saying, words carefully hidden beneath the dredge of ages, beneath the nothing in its silence. Words that it refused to acknowledge. A mutual understanding in this moment that she knew as it knew her, words that would forever go unsaid. The dragon, Murciélago, seemed to know this, had been waiting for it since the moment she had drawn breath she felt, waited for an eternity for this moment to pass between them._

'_Speak, Onna.'_

_And the words were there, piercing through the dim of shadowed grey eyes. The words were there, caught on the end of her fumbling tongue. The words were there, in the dark around them. The words were there, swirling in her chest._

'_Why did you choose me?'_

_He was silent for an infinite moment, before he answered that._

"_Listen, Onna." He murmured softly in the darkness beckoning with talons like the night for her, towards her- and she obeyed, without the slightest provocation she obeyed, as those claws of darkness whispered against the wisp of her with a lover's caress, like a beast who cared for the dream of a flower. And she closed her eyes and saw the lights, the source of the sun inside of her, counted them on her fingers, listened for their voices. High and insistent. Wise. Strong. Carefree. Fierce. Happy. Her. All of her in those twinkling stars, swirling in her spirit. She felt their warmth, the warmth that was her._

* * *

_And she'd let herself forget- she had let herself be swayed by cold, emotionless eyes telling her, forcing her to accept what this 'love' meant. She had let herself forget for a moment, but now she remembered, clear as day as the lights spoke to her. That time in the nurse's office, when she had kissed him- that breathless moment when she had felt him struggling to understand. The way she felt when a warm palm met a cold cheek. The chill of his chest against the warmth of her skin. The sun and the moon. And- his words…_

_**["…I am incapable of passion, nor can I reciprocate the feelings you believe yourself to possess for me. You will cease your enquiries. You will cease your attempts at trying to discern what manner of person I might be. And you will cease these foolish ideals of romantic complications ever occurring between us. You and I are incompatible."]**_

_But then he'd saved her. The look in his eyes when she thanked him. The look in his eyes when she had told him to his face that she liked him. The way for one moment, the façade shattered and he had gotten angry with her. The cold kiss in the dark. When she'd slapped him across the face. The accusation on the edge of his eyes, the way he blamed her for this._

_She'd forgotten the way his eyes would widen, the way he would take all of her in at once. He said that he had learned love from her, what it meant. But the words she had spoken…_

_**["No…That's not it. You- you chose me. Because...I am the one who loves you. You called it a curse, an inconvenience and yet…here we are. You said we are bound. But if I am bound …then…"]**_

_And therein lies the answer, she thought anew, suddenly, powerfully, the lights in her chest burning hotter, with all the flame of a newborn star._

_The answer._

_It had chosen her…he had chosen her. Now they were bound. For better, for worse, forever._

* * *

"_Just this once," the beast whispered solemnly, a subtle reminder in the fading night as she crept back towards the dawn. The beast was calm, the infinite patience of the predator stalking dead prey, the wisdom of countless lives lived and died lingering in its words._

"_Onna. I do not waste my time on things that no longer procure my interest. Should you willingly return to this place once more, that will be the end."_

_And it would be the end- swift and annihilating- she thought with a shiver of cold as the warmth slowly pulled her back to the surface. That would be the end, there would be no quiet slumber in this darkness, but only the gnashing of teeth and the smother of screams as he devoured all that was left of her. Without pretense, brutal in its truth._

"_Thank you." She murmured quietly, sincerely although she dared not draw nearer as she felt the sun rise within her, taking her back. She dared not touch the beast, or feel it in this moment- and therein lay the bitter loneliness of the dark that she knew rotted at the core of the dragon. But she- the melting warm heart of her, alive and beating in her chest, did not fear._

"_I still love him." She whispered quietly in the dark, like a secret between friends, camped out under a makeshift tent of chairs and blankets. "And if you're a part of him, I guess I'll have to love you too."_

"_You are still a fool." The beast murmured, licking his lips as if he wanted to taste her._

_Like a balloon bobbing to the surface, she felt a sharp peal of laughter threaten to explode from between her lips. This was madness, she thought, the warmth of the sun brewing in her chest, against her lips. This was absolute madness she thought of this moment, surprised at how fondly the thought was. The warmth was in her chest, hot and real- alive. She was strong. She was stronger than she knew, than she thought. She had faced down despair. She had suffered in darkness. She had borne the brunt of cold hands, of words hurled like daggers. She was strong. And this- this one thing in this moment- was hers._

"_I am a fool." She uttered proudly, the smile on her face, stretching it to bursting as she spoke to him almost fondly. "But you honestly wouldn't have it any other way, would you?"_

'_Hmph.' The beast echoed, emerald eyes retreating in the darkness with a rattle of chains. The beast, she knew, would linger here, rotting in its cage as she went on to freedom- to life. Until the next meal, until the next time the bite of his fangs pressed insistently at her chest as she lay helpless in the shadow of wings. But the touch of those claws then, had not been the vice grip of prey locked in the jaws of death- but a whisper, a linger, of more. 'Just this once.' She thought suddenly, sadly. But she wouldn't forget this, the gift the beast had given her- the voices. The chance._

'_I won't waste it, I promise.' She called down to the fading eyes, the now forgotten echo of chains. 'I won't disappoint you again.' She promised solemnly, swearing in her head, crossing her heart and wishing to die, sticking a needle in her eye. She would never forget, because she was his last hope, the last flower petal on a withered rose, a dying wish. And she would not forget._

_But she turned her eyes upward, bathed in the reality of the light that awaited her, the nightmare that awaited her. The beast had given her the voices, but she didn't know how to use them- so all she could do was listen. If she succeeded, she knew in her heart she would be able to shake Grimmjow from the grip of his madness, of the freed monster staggering drunkenly in his body thirsting for blood. But she didn't think about the other, of the bite of talons as they tore through her chest, the pain of fang and ripping flesh. If she failed in this moment, she knew her soul would be forever lost in this pit, chained to the beast below. And those claws of night would no longer be gentle._

_She did not think of that. She thought of other things. The way her friends would greet her when they saw her- the way Tatsuki's eyes crinkled when she felt bad about something, the way she would sheepishly apologize and they would make up. The way Ichigo threw his head back and laughed- how quick Uryû's hands were as he expertly wielded a needle, the comfort of Chad's shadow on hot days. Mrs. Mimi's long fingernails biting into her cheek. Mr. Sourpuss. She would take Grimmjow somewhere nice, somewhere he could get all of that rage out of him without hurting himself- without hurting anyone. And-_

_-she wanted to be worthy of cold green eyes. Because she had been chosen._

_And with baited breath, she closed her eyes and waited._

* * *

_AN: Thanks to all of you read and reviewed, I'm really glad to get positive feedback and to know that all of you aren't dead yet lol And hopefully, not lost/confused as all hell. Hopefully._

_I'm sure many of you are slightly confused about the particulars of hollow/human binding- what it entails, how its maintained, the benefits and the downfalls will all become clearer in the upcoming chapters. Most of you get thus far that arrancar can't live peacefully in this world without a price- they suffer via their respective curses- but there's always the possibility that their curse can overwhelm and lead to their own destruction should they let themselves get to riled up. Grimmjow should have just calmed the fuck down. Tsk tsk._

_And yes your brain did not fail you, that IS a shirtless ulquiorra flying through the sky lolz. He's coming to pick me up from my house and taking me to disney world U:_

_But otherwise, Bleach always made it clear that soul reapers and their zanpukto are two separate beings. (anyone remember that arc where all the zanpukto were kicking ass and taking names? Yeah me neither) It's only fair that the same goes for arrancar considering they are the hollow equivalent of soul reapers. In fact, there are a few other similarities between soul reapers/arrancar that I've hinted at. Try and catch 'em all!_

_Once again, thank you to all of my reviewers, and to the lovely CatInTheHat for reading over this for me and doing an awesome job! (since i fail on my own)_

_I look forward to knowing what you guys think, see you next chapter!_


	11. Perils Of Burden

**[A**_l__**iC**_e** I**n _C__h_**a**i_n__**s]**_

_**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**_

_**[Perils Of Burden]**_

* * *

_**ORIHIME!**_**-**the voices screamed in her ears as she came hurtling to herself, forcefully thrown from the _here_to_there _back into her body. It was an indefinable feeling- like the vertigo accompanying the drop from a far height. It was a rush of force that overwhelmed her body with its intensity, like being pushed unceremoniously into an ice cold river. She came to herself with a gasp like a choked breath, her head ringing painfully in her ears and her vision blurring violently as she struggled to come back into her senses.

_**Remember!**_

Instinctively, a natural flexibility honed by years of cheerleading practice, and the muscle control and strength she had gained from taking martial arts classes with Tatsuki in high school, kicked in as soon as grey eyes _rememberedtofocus_- on the clawed hand reaching for her chest. Barely pausing to think she dropped down low immediately, dropping down into a crouch. She expertly rolling beneath and to the side of his outstretched arm in a single fluid motion, merely a moment before his fist tore unmercifully into the fabric of cushion and metal with an ease that made her body shiver and her heart race. She rolled over onto her feet, still stumbling slightly from the feeling of the _here_and_there _that made her limbs tremble, her mind racing, pulse hammering in her chest, heart beating a steady thrum of life and blood in her ears.

_'That could have been me' _she thought with barely restrained horror, watching the way Grimmjow staggered on his feet, idly shaking the ruined remains of the fraying fabric from around his clenched fist. His head rolled limply on his neck so that wild eyes could focus on her- so that blackened fangs could smile for her, the jaws gaping in a wicked grin that reminded her '_That could have been me!' _That single thought made her throat dry and her vision blur as she thought of the _pain_, the blood, as bones _snapped_ and _bent_ and _broke_ and-

_**Orihime! You must focus Orihime!**_

He charged her again, wildly, blindly, like a drunken man and again she dropped down and rolled out of his way a moment before his fist bit harshly into the concrete wall behind her with a crunch like shattering bones. She hurried back to her feet, her stride matching the quickening sprint of her pulse as she leapt into a run across the lobby. She tried to remain calm, tried to remain calm, tried to stay strong- but she could hear the sound of cement and gravel, she had seen the way concrete had parted before the might of his fist, _where her head had been_, and the high keen of panic was bubbling in her head and-

_**Orihime! You must stay strong!**_

_'Yes!' _she tried to tell herself as she attempted to think clearly, tried to think over the madness beneath the surface, tried to think over the voices racing in her mind, over the sound of her roaring blood and pulse. Because there were no cold hands to hold back the feeling, and there were no dragons to hide her in darkness. There was the girl who she was in this moment, this girl who could scarcely draw breath for the pounding of her heart, the echo of madness ghosting along the corridors of her mind, straining the chain of thought. With a startling clarity, she knew- if for one moment she lost her calm, if for one moment she denied this-

_I'll go mad from the revelation._

_Think!_ She had to think clearly! _She couldn't run outside_- that thought cut through the haze, for taking to the streets was nothing short of madness. Her death was one thing, but to risk the lives of other innocent people was another. Especially not people who knew nothing, people who had no idea, people who-

There would be nothing left of her, when he was done. Nothing but _a sunset colored blood stain, torn to pieces-_

-and she was stupid, and this was stupid because the chain had told her of him, had told her that he was the Sexta Espada, that he had ripped hollows, human and soul reapers alike to pieces with his bare hands. It had told her of the echo of his laughter over battlefields covered in blood beneath darkened skies, of the wrathful joy, of the pleasure he got from breaking bones and tearing flesh and-

_**Orihime!**_

-_and dear god_ she heard him roaring behind her, heard him trampling behind her as he slowly but surely regained his strength, as he slowly but surely gained control of his limbs despite the cumbersome weight of the shell that encased his madness, his rage, what remained of his blackened soul. And all thought left her and she could think of nothing but-

_**Dispassionate emerald eyes and cold hands.**_

_please please please-_she thought as she pivoted on her feet, nearly throwing the nearest door off its hinges in her haste, leaping up the stairs of the landing three at a time, hurrying upwards but _no one could hear her_, _no one would know _and soon she would be _dead_, a sunset colored stain on the floor amongst the red and _she had to, she had to_-

_**ORIHIME!**_

And she ran up the stairs, ignoring the harsh slap of concrete stinging against the unprotected flesh of her bare feet as she hurled herself upward, using strength she didn't know she had as she dragged herself up the stairs, the bite of tears threatening to spill over, the panic, the tremble in her hands as she stumbled, a fear she desperately tried to fight. Her legs went numb, dead weight that seemed to cripple beneath her, panic reducing her to a groveling mess as she fell forward onto her knees. She couldn't find the breath to scream, a wordless sound of muffled horror lodged in her throat as she dragged herself forward, crawling on all fours, and she-

_**[**"**I have never seen such a lamentable sight."]**_

_I'm trying! I'm trying! _she screamed aloud in her head to the ghost that was not there as she stumbled back to her feet, righting herself over the roar of unrestrained rage, the echo of Grimmjow's madness and laughter behind her and _don't look back don't look back keep going keep going keep going _and _you have to, you must!_-

_**ORIHIME!**_

And she _wanted_ emerald eyes like she had never wanted them before, she wanted the cold of his chest, of his arms, she wanted the line of his back before her, she wanted to be at his feet, in his shadow- she wanted him to make the world clear and true in the way that only he could, she wanted the cold of him, she wanted the chains if it would only save her, if he would protect her, if he would be the pillar of strength she needed if _he would only_-

_**Orihime! You are strong Orihime!**_

'_But not strong enough for this!'_, not strong enough to do _this_, not strong enough to face _this_, not strong enough to turn around and stare into the depths of those wild eyes crying tears of black, not strong enough to do anything but run as she ran up the steps and she- she _**needed **_him- she _**wanted **_him, she cried out with everything inside of her, her soul screaming with a desperation that could only bear his name.

'_Ulquiorra! Please Ulquiorra! Please! Please please-!'_

But she could not hear the rattle of chains, could not feel the cold of his chest, and her scream was lost in the pit of her being, lost in the darkness so that not even the dragon could answer her pathetic cry for salvation. And there was no Ichigo to make the bad things go away, no Tatsuki to drive the demons back, there was no Uryuu or Chad or Rukia to make things easy, to surround her with that smothering blanket of protection that had kept her safe.

And she stumbled onto her landing, staggering to her door as she fell onto her knees, searching blindly for the spare key she hid under her mat. And she didn't know what the hell she was doing, _nothing_ could save her, _no one_ could save her -and what was she doing but consenting to an annihilating death in the only place she felt safe? The irony of the thought was lost in her shaky breath and fumbling hands-

_["**I have never seen such a lamentable sight."]**_

And she _was_ a lamentable sight, groveling at her door, fumbling for her key as she trembled on her feet, not even knowing what she was doing- but she had to keep him away from others, keep him away from everyone until she _could…!_

_She didn't know- _what was she going to do? What was she planning to do? And that thought alone horrified her more than anything else and her hands shook so hard she couldn't concentrate as she hurried with the lock.

-and she had done it! She kicked open the door _and_- she turned and saw him coming, stalking her slowly on the landing like time was of no consequence, his shoulders hunched forward and his eyes rolling in his head, his cheeks coated in the black of his tears, black rolling from between his grinding jaws and the look in his eyes when he saw her made his grin stretch to the point of madness. And it spoke of _torment _and _rage _and she felt her heart cease in her chest, her eyes wide and wavering in a fear so intense she could not name it, a fear that robbed her of her strength, her will, a fear that told her to _**just shut up be a good bitch and die for me-**_

'_**ORIHIME!'**_-the voices! Screaming- _**'KEEP GOING ORIHIME!'**_

-voices screaming at her, growing louder and louder into a crescendo of sound urging her forward, calling her _closer and CLOSER and __**CLOSER**_ and she knew that she had to find them, she knew that they were here but there wasn't enough time and she couldn't-

_**["In this moment Onna, you are frightened. Your brief display of bravery has abandoned you, and now you are what you always were. Weak. The strength on which you so heavily relied has faded. There is nothing left for you now but despair. This is a battle you cannot win."]**_

_And he was right, he had always been right_- and she turned around, the sight of Grimmjow and the thought of being trapped in an enclosed space from which there would be no escape echoing through her mind. She dashed through her kitchen, a moving mass of pure instinct and limbs as she dashed through the open door of her bedroom- in the moment before his body crashed into hers with all the force of a train, knocking the wind straight from her lungs as he collided with her, the solid and unforeseen weight of his body as it connected with hers making a harsh scream of surprise rise and die in a gasp of harshly drawn breath.

A roar of victory leapt from between his wide jaws, making the very essence of her soul shudder in pure terror as she screamed. They rolled violently across her disheveled bed onto the floor in a single disjointed motion, her head knocking so hard against the corner of her table dresser that it toppled over, and the breath in her lungs left her in one foul swoop as the weight of his body smothered hers, and she felt the wavering edge of her sanity, of the barely restrained madness she had been holding back with feeble hands grasp her in a cold fist as she looked into his eyes.

_His eyes_. Caught between _don't look don't look don't look don't look _and that whispering murmur of _laughter hovering over a battlefield covered in bodies, his fists bringing death, bringing pain- destruction-_the wild depth of that blackened gaze as he ran a tongue over haggard jaws, the pit of _nothing and everything _behind them, the twisted grin of madness and hate etched into the lines of his face and a _hunger _that spoke of immense pain.

_His eyes! _And all of the strength of her will shattered in a moment, so suddenly, so violently that she could do nothing but stare, wide eyed and mindless as everything she had held from herself in this moment caught up with her, a fear she could have only dreamed of, a fear that made her entire body tremble from head to foot, a fear that made dark smiling grins in allies look like _nothing_, a fear that-

'_**ORIHIME! YOU MUST NOT LOOK INTO HIS EYES! ORIHIME!'**_

And she screamed, screamed loudly as the fear caught up with her as the _getawaygetawaygetaway _collided with the _he's going to kill you he's going to kill you stupid girl and eat you alive _and- she tried to roll out from under him, she tried to fight him with flailing fists, but he barked black blood into her face as she struggled, the weight of his body crushing her. And he was _burning_, his skin was _burning _like hot steel as it pressed against her, as one calloused hand forcefully caught her flailing arms, forcing them above her head, the bruising force of his grip holding her captive. The fear was hot and real and tangible in her throat so that it choked her scream, a fear she had never known of _blood _and _torment _and her vision began to fade and blur, pulsing in and out of focus so that she couldn't think and-

'_**ORIHIME! ORIHIME! ORIHIME!'**_

-the voices were loud and insistent in her ears, deafening her but _she couldn't!_-

'_**LOOK AWAY FROM HIS EYES ORIHIME!**_ '

But she was paralyzed by that gaze, by her fear and she could not think as a clawed hand tore at the thin fabric of her shirt, ripping it in two with a violent rip that left swift, ragged lines of red running down the length of her chest and abdomen, the adrenaline pumping through her blood making her numb for a second of mercy until the pain stung her swiftly as she sucked in a breath, a promise of more, _of worse,_ in pitch black eyes, of a pain so unimaginable she wouldn't be able to survive it.

His claws bit into the bare flesh of her unprotected chest, drawing lines of red against her sweat stained skin, so that it smarted, a new twinge of pain that made her body leap beneath him, struggling in vain to hurl him from her. And she screamed, wanting to scream _his _name, screaming for salvation, screaming for help that wouldn't come, choking on a barely contained sob that made her chest rattle as his tongue ran a burning trail up the length of her abdomen, nipping harshly at the side of her breasts. _Ohgodohgodohgod_ as the tears ran freely down her face, as she knew his intent, knowing that he was going to take her and use her and destroy her completely and leave nothing left-

_**'ORIHIME!' **_And the voices were clear and sharp and strong in her ears, startling in the force of their combined voices and _she knew she was close, she knew she was close, she just had to-!_

She couldn't think as he traced the outlines of the smarting scratches he had drawn against her chest with the burning length of his tongue, her heart roaring so loud in her ears that she couldn't think, the iron grasp around her wrists tightening, _tightening_ to breaking and- she jumped beneath him, her hands grasping aimlessly above her in his grip, desperately searching the ground before her strength gave out, _before_-

And then she felt the sinking of fangs into the unprotected flesh of her chest, the pain immediate, so intense that she unleashed a fresh scream, a mangled sound of pain as her entire body leaped beneath him to throw him off, her legs careening wildly, her back straightening against the carpet as if she wanted it to swallow her, to take her away - the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, goose bumps of pure terror breaking out along her bare skin, her heart pounding so intensely in her chest that she could hear nothing but the haggard, mangled breaths torn from her parted lips. _The end_- almost at the end, she could see the dark coming, brutal and-

-and her hands found the cool edge of metal pins where they had been thrown against the floor and- the voices were clear, so clear and strong that they seemed to echo through her entire body, making her clenched hand grow _hot and hotter and_-the voice was proud, strong, a roar of strength she didn't have-

_**'****LISTEN TO ME NOW GIRL! YOU MUST-'**_

_But the pain was too much! _she couldn't focus, she couldn't concentrate on the voice over the burning heat of his skin trapping her, the bite of fangs gnawing against her chest as if he would devour the light inside of her, the sickening warmth of her own blood rolling against her skin, the scent of copper and her fear and _dear god this was the end this was it she was going to die- she was going to die and the dragon would come and he would devour what was left and she-_

_**'******__-_FOCUS ORIHIME! YOU HAVE TO CONCENTRATE! YOU MUST-'

But she couldn't think of anything but this staggering pain, _**this pain**_, the pain of his fangs tearing through flesh, not like that dark kiss of frantic of pleasure as _he_ had drunk from her but a conquering of all that she was- and he was going to tear her to pieces and take what was left he was going to _take and take and take and-_

_**[**__**'I took nothing from you that you did not freely give.']**_But she had given him nothing! She had given black eyes and fangs _nothing! _And he was just going to _take _it from her like some starving beast, he was going to eat her alive like whipped prey, like the rotten remains of an ancient feast. And suddenly the fiery voice cut through the haze to the core of her and she _knew-_

_**'******__-_YOU MUST REJECT HIM ORIHIME!'

And _she knew it she knew it_ -she thought of how she had given herself away, regardless of reason, how she had made the _decision_ to give herself away. Because she had loved him with all of her. But not like this, _**not like this**_, not to wild eyes and bloody fangs-

-and she focused through the pain, despite the pain and she focused on that- on nothing but that- on the hot something boiling in the pit of a girl named _Onna _who was _not _to be taken advantage of, who would _not _let herself be taken advantage of-and then the words came spiraling from inside of her, leaping from her lips with the bite of that heat, the force of her desperation, practically screaming the words into wild eyes-

_**"****KOTEN ZANSHUN! I REJECT!"**_

And for one moment, she was blinded by the harsh glow of a light so strong that it blinded her, illuminating the shadows in his eyes, making her body burn hotter than the sun, glowing with a force she could not explain. A sudden wind that made her eyes burn and whipped the hair violently around her face, fluttering her curtains, tossing the scattered remains of clothes and paper around her room in a violent tornado of movement and chaos. In a moment that seemed infinite- but as brief as a blink- a force seemed to explode from inside of her to the heart of him, to the black of his chest. And the light, the heat, the force seemed to hover, contained against his might in a moment in which she could have sworn she saw a black bird, grinning at her with a callous smile. And then it burst in a stream of power and light, hurling him away from her with frightening force, sending him reeling backwards through her covered window with an explosion of shattering glass and the sickening scent of scorched flesh.

The roar of a hot summer's wind and the high keen of broken glass assaulted her, her entire head ringing, the lingering light making her eyes water as it faded away so suddenly that she lay paralyzed against the floor. For a moment she lay where she was, her entire body flushed with the aftermath of something she could not even begin to understand. As the wind dissipated she was covered in stray papers and articles of clothing as gravity dragged them back to earth, the hair settling hotly back across her face.

'_What…what just happened?' _Wearily she struggled to make sense of the insanity of the moment as she lay there, her entire body flooded with heat, her muscles slack against her damp carpet- from her blood, staining it beneath her. '_Was…was he-?'_ she cracked open weary eyes, her haggard gaze drifting around the room as it began to blur- but he was gone- the proof of his violent exit seen in the shattered glass littering her carpet and her open window, the blinds blown to pieces and the remains of her curtains hanging in frayed tatters.

She sucked in a heady breath against the floor as the light and heat finally disappeared, replaced with a fatigue so intense it robbed her of the ability to even move, the high sharp bite of the pain in her bleeding chest fading away into a dull murmur. Once more she heard him- the strong voice, smoldering and raw, filled with something that could have almost been pride.

'_**Heh. Good job girl. Guess you aren't as helpless as I thought.'**_

'_Who?_' she thought through the haze, as her eyes began to drift closed. She asked the question wildly, blindly although somehow she felt as if she already knew the answer. The voices were fading quickly, still calling to her, but she didn't have any more strength left to hear them as they faded in the void. She felt the dark creeping upon her, a welcoming dark of silence and peace. '_Grimmjow?' _she thought clearly, for a moment, as the room began to spin, her body overwhelmed with exhaustion. _'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry…I…I'm…sorry…I-' _but she blacked out in the middle of regret as the dark overwhelmed her.

* * *

["_The Onna is one of us now. And you will give the Onna guidance in my absence. You will inform her of our ways until I return."]_

He mulled briefly over the words- if they had even been spoken- the fact that he was not certain was one he did not want to acknowledge, much less accept. Had he imagined them, he wondered? Had the depths of his being given the words form? Even that thought was laughable- as if he could even begin to imagine what emerald eyes must have felt as he spoke them.

_'Fool'_ he could hear those eyes speaking, cold and sharp as they cut him to pieces. _'You cannot begin to imagine what I am.'_

And the truth of those words perhaps, was the most frightening thought of all. What manner of man truly lay behind emerald eyes? What truth lay rotting beneath that hole in his chest? What desires, what he hungered for, what he wanted- were all things he could not even begin to fathom. But mostly- _if he knew the truth of this all along, then why did he not deny her? If he knew my words were all the push she needed to weaken her resistance to the call, why did he spare her?_

The allure of wide grey eyes, the appeal of that sickening charm of innocence and budding womanhood, the gentle curves of her goddess like form were all things that would be able to sway the most hard hearted of men. However- Ulquiorra was beyond that, above that. What had happened between them- he could not help but wonder- that had made it so easy? And so impossible to believe?

He leaned against the railing in front of his open apartment door, sleeves rolled up and feet bare as he lit the cigarette perched between his lips with a motion perfected from years of practice. A truly marvelous invention- cigarettes- calming somehow in knowing that were he a mortal man, smoking as much as he did in a day would kill him, satisfying in the sense that it would not. The feel- of smoke clouding the lungs that did not draw breath- was one he thoroughly enjoyed. The knowledge that in many small ways, these mortals did what they could to numb themselves to the feeling of life, to the blessing they denied. How laughable it was- to think of all the ways in which mortals spat in the face of all that he was- they were- with that callous indifference. '_Ah, ignorance.'_

To think these poor fools drank themselves into oblivion, that they smoked and did whatever they could alleviate the burden of that which they could no longer bear, reveling in self-destructive behavior, openly flaunting their means of escape while _they_…_they_ were forced to suffer as they were. They did not live, and so robbed of the simple pleasures of even being allowed to thrive. They could not die- they simply ceased to exist. And what became of them? Their feeble, putrid souls, damned from the beginning, twisted so far from its original form that there was not even the slightest chance of salvation?

He let the thought go. Drawing on the length of his cigarette, pursing his lips only to let the smoke billow out from between them.

And that girl-

-he wondered if he could kill her. He wondered if he could lull her once more into a false sense of security, wondered if he put his hands around the pale column of her neck and tightened his grip- would she struggle? Would she _beg_? Would she show him the face she had shown emerald eyes…or would she fade pathetically away into nothing?

It had been so easy, the first time. _Disgustingly _easy-how could a girl be so foolish? So trusting? So fucking naïve? In that room, she had shared more of herself with him than any of her so-called friends had ever known- her fears, her concerns, the depths of her insecurity- and to what ends? To think that a woman walked the earth who was so fucking innocent she would share such an intimate part of herself with a man she had never known. How frustrating it had been- to hide back the high bubble of madness from seeping into his eyes.

And what lay behind those wavering eyes, within the confines of that chest- what about this wisp of a girl- had made Nnoitra unable to resist destroying her? That had led Grimmjow to save her? That had led Ulquiorra…to spare her? What secret did she hold, what possible curse had fate decreed she bear that had led her so violently right into their hands? To think that this frail scrap of nothing- whose only curse was the purity of her soul- had unknowingly found herself caught in the crosshairs of beings she could not begin to understand. There was the notion of her loyalty, her devotion to those she called 'friends'- and there was her love, binding her to the monster he knew. He knew with certainty that she was the sort who could not fight the force of her feelings, of her passion, once it had been ignited. She was a girl- if she lived a thousand times, her love would neither waver nor diminish.

He could not put his finger on it. And that alone perhaps was proof enough that this was going too far. That girl- she may have just been a liability after all, a gamble he had no right to make. The time would come- _he could feel it_ as the ash was tossed from his lit cigarette by a stray wind. The time would come where he was going to sordidly regret his reckless decision. But before then…well.

He looked down into the expanse below with a thoughtful gaze, resigning himself for the moment, to simply accept things as they were. It was in this very moment that he first heard it- a strange sound far below, rattling the silence of mid-morning. He cocked an eyebrow, the apartment complex in which they now lived were known for many things, however noise violations had never been one of them.

If he had not known from personal experience, it would have been hard to acknowledge the sound for what it really was- a scream. A woman's scream. It didn't take even a moment's pause before he was sighing with unbridled frustration. Nnoitra had always been a messy eater and had occasionally brought back a meal for a late night snack, since it seemed good sense and decency when feeding eluded him quite often. In fact, lately his reckless feeding habits had grown far beyond the degree of comfort. Surely if Grimmjow had not put him in his place the other night, there wouldn't have been enough left of the girl to even fill a coffin.

However upon further reflection he was surprised to find that the he had miscalculated the degree of the scream- it had come from below- a few floors down perhaps? There was something else- a strange scent. Heavy and ancient, it smelled like - the cigarette fell from between his open lips as the scent registered. _'Grimmjow…how could you?' _In the moment in which he realized, in the moment in which he felt the panic beginning to blossom it was too late, it was - _stop it, dammit! You must stop it!_

But too late! Far too late! An unfathomable desire was building within him to explode into laughter, a high shriek of madness, riddled with the joy of the _feeling_. Of the freedom _he _must be feeling. The feeling of being unleashed, unchained, relinquished from the bonds that restrained them, that hid the black of their souls beneath the illusion of mortality. The feeling welling in the depth of the void, from the hole, of pure joy for his brethren, pure joy as he could feel it, could _taste it. _He could feel the hollow, clawing its way up from the abyss, fighting against the shell, to be released to plague the earth. The feeling of that dark soul clawing to life, made his own chest rattle, making his hands tremble, his breath caught from the force of holding himself together. The madness! The madness wanted to join its brethren destruction, it wanted to create a world _of black and blood _it wanted to-

'_**You fool! You fucking fool!'**_ grinding his jaws closed, fighting the beginnings of the gnashing of teeth, fighting the black, building in his own throat, so close he could _taste it-_ the warmth of barely restrained power in the air- of reiatsu, turbulent and violent. Falling to his knees, hands beginning to claw at the fabric of his shirt, fighting to pierce the skin of the shell, his body moving of its own volition. The feeling of being split in two, the feeling of the dark overwhelming his waking mind. _**'Do not succumb you fool! You must not succumb!'**_

To lose to that night was the true failure, to lose himself in the depth of that madness- and he was not quite so weak, so pathetic as to lose himself to that call, willing him to let go and be free. To do such a thing was suicide! To do such a thing was betrayal- to them. The damned curse had taken others- but it _would not _take him, Sweat broke out along his forehead, entire body trembling from the force of getting himself under control. The scent of that power, smothering him, forcing him to relinquish himself, to be lost in that power-

'_**Fight it you fool! Fight it!' **_The black, rising, the hole consuming, standing on the edge of that void that led to the end- feeling his self control slipping, fading fast. On the edge- he could feel it the scent of her blood, coating the air-_her blood. __**'Fuck! Fuck!'**_ If he lost himself now- if they lost themselves now- there would be no mercy from emerald eyes. Callously, cruelly he would slice away the cancer, he would slay the both of them with his bare hands- once the curse had taken hold there was no escape. Either return to the abyss of the other side, or succumb to being hunted like a wild dog by the very beings they were trying to avoid. Emerald eyes would care nothing of their bonds as comrades, emerald eyes did not recognize such trivial things as friendships, as foolish and fleeting as shared struggles. Without the slightest hesitation, he would slay the both of them. Regardless of sacrifice he would complete his duty- and if they had to die for the sake of the others, he would kill them without a second thought. He would plunge that cold hand into the depth of his being, and drag up the remains of his putrid soul and crush it in his palm.

And he could not, _would not_, allow himself to be slain like vermin, like filth! After all of his struggles, after overcoming such strife, after crossing over, after surviving when a hundred others had failed- he would not settle for being killed like some rabid beast, he would not allow himself to be slain like a dog! He- Szayel Aporro Granz- would not perish here!

But suddenly something pierced through the black, some strange warmth that banished the feeling as suddenly as it had brought him to his knees. Reeling from the force of the warmth, flowing through his body and he could feel the black fading away back into the abyss. Gasping for breath, feeling the sweat matting his brow, he struggled to regain his senses. His mind was left in shattered disarray in the aftermath, and he struggled to regain enough of himself to comprehend the strange power that had banished the dark. Such a strange, unfathomable power! Hazy and warm like the rays of a midday sun, piercing the black and banishing the shadows of the madness- what had that been? What on earth could have possibly-

He staggered to his feet, hurling his body against the railing. There was a moment in which time was of no consequence, as he stared down far below- into blank eyes, a mouth riddled with black stained fangs, gravity dragged his prone body down with a vengeance as he fell, hurtling to the ground and lost in the trees. '_Grimmjow'_ he thought with a vengeance, as he watched the man fade away far below, leaving behind him an overwhelming scent of singed flesh, of warmth, of reiatsu and- _her._

He remembered the words then, the words cold emerald eyes had left with him before vanishing. Words that had sunk into the core of his being and settled there.

_["No harm is to come to the Onna - or you will be held responsible."]_

He connected the dots between emerald eyes, the girl and his fascination with her fate, all within the single moment that it took him to leap over the balcony to drop down below. The gravity and the wind that assaulted him echoing the force of the maniacal laughter building in his chest.

* * *

_The echo of silence. The harsh wind whipping the scent of blood and sand…of ash. A forlorn sound of loneliness…emptiness…echoing through the ruined remains of a castle that had once towered, magnificent, beneath the illusion of a blue sky. He knew now, the folly of that illusion. The sun of the human world was brighter-mocking him with its warmth, as it echoed along the cold planes of his chest. The black length of wings snapped closed as he alighted, the cement cracked beneath him, still black, stained with the scent of blood and an age old whisper of torment. Emeralds eyes bore witness to the shattered remains of the cold, white kingdom that had stood over these planes, a testament to the might and power of the man who had forged it. A solitary beacon of order, of something more than the never ending cycle of death and destruction, the bloody aftermath of countless battles fought and won._

_This was where he had found his beginning. This was where he had known he would meet his end. This was where he had found it- the only testament to a life worth living, beyond the void, beyond the cold lure of emptiness. He had wanted nothing before this. He had been born from nothing, steeped in the emptiness of the abyss, only to be banished from the darkness to a world without meaning._

_In the wake of his rebirth, there had been a few scant centuries of wandering without purpose or desire, across a barren land. Void of sound, stripped of need, lacking the same savage ambition that drove his kind to madness. A walking void._

_It had been centuries since dark eyes had asked him what it was he desired in return for his service. He had desired nothing but an end then. A end. To everything._

_A lone shadow, a solitary witness he walked the length of halls that even the centuries would not allow him to forget. Time had done its worst- many of the halls ruined beyond use, the cement cracked and broken, the halls littered with wayward sand. There was no trace of remorse or regret as emerald eyes lighted upon the remains of comrades that had once fought at his side. Filth. Trash not worth noting, not strong enough to hold onto their putrid lives. Worth less than nothing._

_There was no fondness, no pleasurable memories to assault him as he walked the halls. He remembered nothing but the cold of the sword in his hand, as Murciélago had sung a bitter, empty song of blood and death. Carving a path through gods, heading to the height of the tower, to the beginning and the end. To the side of his Master, his lord, the only thing worthwhile in the meaningless stretch of existence mortals called living._

_And he had thought of nothing but the void then, when he found the man…a mocking smile of benevolence still etched onto his lips._

_The void took him in a familiar embrace of nothing and darkness, Murciélago's song now an empty echo of and a black pit of despair, calling him to release, to awaken himself from the stagnant weight of mortality. Were he a lesser being, the cross over alone would have been enough to unwind him, reverting him back to his original form._

_But there was…a sigh like a smothered scream, choked in darkness. And the warmth of a flower, blooming in his palm. **Just this once. I still love him. **A strange…something…balancing, delicately on the edge of a precipice she could not fathom. A whisper, lurking there. Of more. **And if you're a part of him, I guess I'll have to love you too. **Emerald eyes as cold as winter, wondering at the way amber suns burned from the pit. But he said nothing, silent and still at the wordless silence of more, fading away into the darkness. But he pushed it all below with a callous hand, sending it all to the bottom of the abyss. Into the void of before- void of sound, of feeling, of nothing but the world reflected in emerald pits._

_He was a cold, cruel master in possession of all that he was. And unperturbed he vanished further into the halls of white. _

* * *

_[[She ran. Her brow drenched with sweat, bangs plastered to her forehead, long strands hot and heavy against her breathe. **Run. **Throwing herself forward with the last of her strength, every ounce of anything left within her weary body. Running up the staircase of white, towards the unmerciful heavens. **Save him! **Head down, arms flailing as her legs burned, setting a scorching pace, a blistering, rhythmic pounding matching the heart thrumming violently in her ears. **SAVE HIM! **Without time for respite, choking the fear in her throat. **YOU MUST SAVE HIM! **Gray eyes wide open, blinded by tears, the sound of her heart, her blood roaring in her ears- her weary body burning, begging for release- for-**SAVE HIM! **Heading towards the open doorway at the top, at the top of the world- just a few more moments, more time, she needed-**SAVE HIM! (**Who?!) She screamed into the mindless abyss of nothing, as she staggered through the doorway, desperate, consumed by the black pit of fear lodged in her chest. **How can I-!? How could I possibly- **wide gray eyes, haggard and weary, open and broken as she stumbled through the doorway, falling to her feet in a moment in which she knew no pain. Looking up- at the prone body, dangling limp and bloodless- eyes like emptiness- the hole-_

_Feeling the very marrow seep out of her bones as the air left her, as everything within her ground to a shuddering halt.**No. **she thought in a moment of clarity, the very moment before the scream was ripped from her lips. **What have you done! **The echo of darkness full of a centuries worth of wrath, of some abyss she could not name, being wrenched from her lips as she was blinded by her tears._

_**WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!**_

_It was the next scream- a sound of such misery, such unfathomable torment- such- _pain-_ that she woke up.]]_

* * *

'_Is this…another dream?' _was the first thought that roused from the depth of her mind, groggy and slow, so that she felt as if she were in a box stuffed with cotton trying to scream. _'Can't be.'_She thought wearily, through the haze, through the fog of the dark behind her eyelids._' I am dead as a doornail.' _And there would be no prince charming, this time, to give her the kiss of life. Or was that another dream? '_But how strange, I always thought…being dead would be different, not like-'_– like being run over by a train carrying a hoard of zoo animals, trampled by donkey riding midgets, and then having her body beaten six feet under by a troupe of Irish river dancers. As she awoke, she could feel her entire body, heavy and numb, throbbing, pounding with such a raw, unnatural tendency that she felt like emptying her stomach onto the floor. But her throat was dry, so that even her slowly drawn breaths sounded more like dull whispers of sound.

"_Wakey Wakey Princess."_

'_Who was that?' _she thought slowly, shying away from the words murmured hotly into the shell of her ear. _'Sorry God….I'm so tired I could probably sleep through a twenty three car train wreck…and an explosion.' _She wanted to dream again, a better one. One not quite so…frighteningly sad. Were she in her conscious mind, she would have wondered at the strange, disjointed dream, pulled from the depths of a place she could not name. As it stood- she yawned, her body shifting as her eyes remained closed. '_A better dream this time_,' she thought groggily, a small smile etched into the lines of her lips. A dream of_- riding on the back of the amber eyed dragon, laughing for all she was worth-_

"_Come now, dear girl! It's time to get up."_

'_Not yet, not yet-' _shifting defiantly onto her back, her brow furrowed, mumbled, half hearted words falling from her lips. "The…'est….art…" _'A loud screech of laughter as she held onto his horns. Faster! Faster! A smile so wide she thought it would split her face in two. A sigh as amber eyes begrudgingly acknowledged her request, picking up speed with a great flap of dark wings. She was laughing so hard she could not find time to breathe as the wind whipped the hair around her face, tears of mirth flowing down her cheeks as they climbed higher into the sky. How on earth could he stand to be so miserable- when this was so fun! This was three times as fun as the time she had danced naked through every room in her apartment, jumping on her bed and touching the ceiling, reaching for the sky. Higher, Higher, into the blue- higher, until space! Until-_

"_**Onna." **__Cold Amber Eyes. __**"Just this once."**__A murmur like winter, like-__**"Orihime! Remember!" **__No! Not yet-! but like a spirit he faded away to nothing, beneath her hands, and she was falling through space. Surprised, wide eyes struggled to comprehend as she floundered through the stars of morning, falling deeper into the abyss, into- _"**Shut the fuck up**." _Eyes the color of lightning, pearly fangs coated in black, claws aching to rip her apart- she gasped aloud as unbidden, the tears of anguish flooded her eyes.__**"Orihime! You must-" **__No! Not yet! Not-_

And then the hand struck her, the action so sudden that her body stopped its floundering, as the sweet dream blackened into the gloom of a nightmare from which she could not escape. She came to her senses panting, gasping for breath, the sweat on her brow real, dampening her bangs against her forehead, her cheek smarting from the blow of the slap. Her eyes drifted open, wide and frightened, haggard from the remembrance of that pain. Immediately, she was assaulted by the harsh electric light pointed directly into her face. Cold, pallid palms, heavy and slow, rose to shield her eyes, the intensity of the light blinding her, making her head spin and spots blot the dark as she closed her eyes.

Confused and disoriented, she rubbed at her half open eyes, blinking owlishly through her fingers as she struggled to focus her gaze.

"Is that…you, God?" she muttered curiously, her voice laced with weariness and confusion, cheek still smarting from the subtle blow. But then the figure at her side rose over her, blocking out the light and coating her in the dark of his shadow.

"I'm afraid not, dear girl." A voice- polite, well mannered and comforting- so that she wondered at the shudder than ran up and down her spine. A shudder like…fear, as she lowered her hands, her eyes adjusting to the dark of his shadow as he stood. The strike of the match flaring, the small, flickering flame illuminating his face. Glinting malevolently off of the lenses of his glasses, ghosting eerily along his smile as he lit the cigarette perched between his grinning lips.

"You couldn't be more wrong."

_A shudder - like fear_, she thought, as she stared into cold, languid eyes. Filled with a sickening warmth that was anything but comfort, as she felt her heart lurch in her chest as slowly, many things suddenly clicked into place.

* * *

_AN: Well. Not as much Ulquihime this chapter. However...I would like to take this time to just go ahead and state that thanks to my own fan fiction...I now ship Grimmhime.(#BOOM) Don't ask me how the hell that works because I have NO FUCKING IDEA. Hopefully this doesn't turn into a triangle (I usually HATE those) but somehow I can see where this is going...and there is nothing like good old fashioned soap opera drama. Anyway, thanks again to my lovely Beta THE CAT WITH THE HAT (SEE LOOK I GOT IT RIGHT THIS TIME) for being a bangin beta! _

_But whoooa foreshadowing, suspense, crazy and a whole lotta other stuff this chapter. Tell me what you think! I love to get reader conspiracies, rants, and other wise reviews telling me what a shitty job I'm doing lolz. Hope you guys liked the chapter, or at least it might have given you something to bite your finger nails about. See ya'll on the flip side!  
_


	12. Comfort Betrays

**[A**_l__**iC**_e** I**n _C__h_**a**i_n__**s]**_

_**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**_

_**[Comfort Betrays]**_

* * *

_["Shut up Grimmjow. You know as well as we do the foolishness of such an act. As fun as it would be too finally have one at my disposal, I dare say even I am not that eager to die. Besides- why can't you just calm down and enjoy the free buffet hmm? As long as they continue to hide, I see no reason for us to come out of hiding."_] The top of his head-pink as cherry blossoms- as she had precariously balanced, hanging onto the edge.

_["Greetings, Mrs. Orihime. I am Dr. Granz."] _The smile, polite and unassuming, professional. The handshake - firm. [_"…are you a witch?"_] asked seriously. Because _how could he have? _-the smile on his face. [_"No, I'm just a doctor."_]

She couldn't breathe, her entire body growing numb as she was pinned beneath his gaze, feeling the cold radiating from him, a cold like_- "… the slightest thing could help me help you… you understand, of course?" _How kind he had been. How _understanding_- even though the words, the entire story had been smothered beneath the weight of her soul, buried within the wide expanse of her imagination, where she had resigned herself to letting it rot. Even though he had been so considerate. His eyes easy and kind as the words, fell, unbidden, from her lips. She had cried, a little, at his kindness- at finally being able to tell someone,_anyone._The entire story, floundering as it leapt from her tongue. Once she had started she could not halt the flow, the truth. Her friends. Her life. Her sanity. Her...love. He promised. _He had promised_. To take it to the grave- in jest she had made him pinky swear, _cross his heart and hope to die, stick a needle in his eye_- she couldn't think. His advice had been heartfelt, sincere. _Don't let him go. _A smile like comfort, like benevolence going straight to her heart.

_[["You're amazing." And probably a witch, she had added silently, despite his claims. She sat, relieved and spent, slouched against the table, her heart lighter than it had been for months. Relief- lightening her burden so that for a moment she wondered if she was going to float away like an unfettered balloon. How easy it had been, she remembered again, at his consistent but easy prying. How easy the answers were wrenched out of her, with all the difficulty of wringing water from a wet sponge. As if she had been writing in her diary- either this man was really, really good (A warlock was a male witch right?) or she was just that hopeless. It was almost unfair, how naturally the conversation had been, how amazing it had felt to be free of some of her fears, her hesitations, her friends, her everything._

"_I'm sorry…you must think me silly. I have never told anyone so much! I hope you don't think I'm some strange lonely perverted miserable stalker with bad luck and-" pausing to sniffle, her eyes smarting from the tears that had come unbidden as she spoke. He gave her a kind smile as he handed her a box of tissue, which she gladly accepted. In awe of him she grabbed a few, pausing for a moment to blow her nose violently, her eyes on his the entire time. He had been leaning forward and cleaning his glasses as he pondered her predicament and the strange series of events that had made up her last waking hours._

"_What…what do you think I should do? I don't…have anyone else I can ask for advice." She murmured honestly, feeling her chest tighten. Her friends would not…understand. They would judge and condemn, that she knew for certain. She did not hold it against them. They just wouldn't…understand. But this stranger who she trusted for some unfathomable reason, had not once called her silly or demeaned her situation in the slightest. That was what had made her continue, what made the words keep coming and coming far beyond her capability to stop them. Those kind eyes that did not judge her._

_And he gave her another polite smile as he felt her gaze, this amazing man who spared the time out of his day to bear her ramblings. Watching, listening quietly as she parted the flood gates, as mostly everything came flowing out of her like a broken faucet._

"_Is first love not the purest, the most sublime? The standard to which all love is held? Then you cannot allow the opportunity to escape you, dear girl. The both of you are still young, and there is still much you have to learn. But surely if you do not confront him honestly, you will sordidly regret your mistake." He began thoughtfully as he pushed the glasses over his calm eyes._

"_But I must say, after all of that, why on earth do you continue to pursue such a man? Surely anyone else your age would have long since moved on after being treated to such cruelty."_

_She paused as she lowered her hands, her nose red and irritated so that for a moment she rubbed at it awkwardly with the back of her sleeve. Her eyes lowering immediately, to her lap and the hands, tearing mindlessly at the tissue balled in her fist._

"_I…know what you're saying. He's not very nice. He's not warm or welcoming or thoughtful or considerate or normal or…" she sighed and cut the list short, even though she could still hear it, rambling off in the back of her mind._

"_And he has these…eyes. Like…emeralds," she murmured softly, eyes…green like envy. "They would make you shudder if you saw them. Because they're so cold and…empty. Like…nothing's there. Like knock, knock but nobody's home." Turning the tissue over in her hands, her feet dangling over the edge of the table. Shoulders hunched with the thought of his coldness, making her want to wrap her arms around her frail body for comfort, for warmth._

"_I know he will probably…never love me but…I don't know. It's like there's some…" she struggled to define it, the wordlessness of the cold, swamping him. "It's like he is trapped in a dark hole and he can't get out or…doesn't want too. It's like he's miserable but he never seems sad, he never seems like…anything," she reiterated with a sigh, gray eyes lost in remembrance. So she missed the way light reflected malevolently across spectacled eyes. "I just want him to understand I guess. I…love him so much. I can't…really explain it more than that, and I don't know why but he…I don't think he believes in it." she murmured slowly, voice drifting._

_He rose softly, and came to her side, placing an arm around her hunched shoulders. Immediately she sniffled again, grabbing another tissue from the box held in his outstretched hand. For a moment they sat quietly, his face thoughtful as she proceeded to blow her nose rather violently. _

"_Then you must not let him go."_

"_What?" she exclaimed, looking up at him through hazy eyes, widening at the smile on his face._

_"__Do not let him go. Make him understand. Do not let him drive you away. You are a strong girl, Mrs. Inoue. I believe in you." The smile, on his face was coaxing, warm, easy to trust. "Confront him honestly, love him openly…your intentions, your feelings are pure- you must believe in them. I encourage you to inquire about your unusual circumstances- you never know what angels are guarding you. That alone would be proof enough right?"_

_The smile on his face- gentle. So gentle as he speaks. "How amazing it must be, to believe in the one you love. You must do the same Mrs. Inoue. And I assure you…your faith, your confidence in your love will be rewarded. Is that alone not worth fighting for?"]]_

'_A snake,'_she thought far too late, with a shudder racing down her spine, her breath caught in her throat. A _snake_, feeding her candy coated lies. The blasphemous truth, was standing right here in front of her widened eyes. For a moment she lay there, stunned beyond words, struck so deeply she could not think. Because he had known then. _He had known her. _And yet he had-_he had so easily-!_

"You knew…you knew the entire time! Then how could you…" the words fumbled from her lips like a broken promise, trembling with disbelief. How could he let her walk so willingly into the lion's den? How could he let her? The answer came swift, immediate, from the echo of the dark in her mind._You were always prey. S_he drove the words away with a shake of her head, a high keen of pain making her vision waver and her throat dry. He watched her with eyes like honey, with a cold edge in them that was more like steel.

"Come now dear girl, no need to be so upset."-how easy his words came! As she lay before him, smothering some unfathomable something brewing inside of her. It reminded her of the alley, of the alley from before when she had lain on scuffed knees. Remembering the bite of the pavement against her raw palms, the way her tears stung from the mascara running into her eyes. The cruelty of words she had never heard. And the realization for the first time in her entire life that she could have known of it. It reminded her of something hard and tight like a rock in her chest. Something cold and heavy that felt like hate.

'_Be wary of this one.'_The chain told her, a whisper snaking through the corridor of her mind. _'Be wary of the one who calls himself friend. Be wary of the man who so easily uses lies. Be wary of the man with madness on his tongue.'_

His smile was calm- sickeningly calm- as he grinned at her. And the very essence of his voice made her soul squirm.

"Are we not comrades now? And surely everything worked out well for you did it not? In any form you have him, your love of a thousand life times- and he has you. Surely you are content?"

'_The Octavia. Trust not the comrade with the silver tongue.'_

She said nothing, giving him a weary glare, her lips pressed tightly together. He smiled anew from between the cigarette perched between his lips, the thing such a blatant mockery of his earlier kindness that it made her blood roar.

"Ah I see…angry with me are you? Very well…I suppose I deserve that right? Is that what you want me to say? That I should feel ashamed? For being inconsiderate? For taking advantage of your vulnerability? For knowingly using your weakness against you? If that is what you sincerely believe...then poor girl…you really don't know anything do you?"

"I know a bad person when I see one," she bit out hotly, the words leaping from her lips so vigorously that even she was surprised at them. But somewhere at the heart of her she saw a black bird, smiling smugly at her response. Syazel's responding grin hardly made it seem like a victory, as he paused to let smoke billow from between his lips.

"Oh you know me now, once I have dropped the charade. But girl you did not know me then, when I could have easily snapped your neck."

She sucked in a breath at how casually the words were said, perching warily against the cot on which she lay. And for the briefest of moments she thought of Grimmjow, of the sound of his laughter across the empty, and despite herself she could feel a tremor of something cold run down her spine_.__**'Don't be scared girl!' **_Gruff words in her ear. _**'Don't let the little shit bully you.' **__'Yes' _she thinks as she draws a breath and steadies her gaze. _'I understand.'_

He does not pause, although his eyes greedily devoured the fear in her gaze before she could steel herself. But it is with a half-hearted wave of his hand that he continues. "I suppose it is the chain that warns you?" he murmurs in jest, a moment before he pauses to take another draw of his cigarette, inhaling deeply for a moment before he blows a stream of hazy gray smoke right in her face. "And what does it say of me?"

She coughs at the intrusion, waving her hands hastily to fan the foul smelling cloud away from her face. The smoke stung her eyes, making them water, so she struggled to hold back the tears as they smarted. But her voice was quiet and calm when she answered. "Not to trust you. You…are not the strongest but that does not make you weak. You are worst because you are clever. I must watch you because you can't be trusted. Because you're a snake," she puffed vehemently, narrowing her eyes in a tight glare.

He laughed darkly, taking a deep draw of his cigarette. "Just a snake? My goodness! I should practically be offended. I assure you, I can be much worse." He leaned forward, drawing so close to her she could feel her chest squirm anew. She held her breath, daring not to blink as he let her stare deeply into the golden pools- and at the madness she could see swirling in their depths._'Compose yourself.' _It was the dark in her ear. '_Do not waver.'_

And she did not blink, even when her eyes began to smart and her vision began to blur. Even when she felt her heart begin to pound in her chest at the dark staring her in the face. Grimmjow's eyes had swirled with violence, turbulent and wild, wrath beyond containing. His gaze had burned hot and raw like hell fire. Syazel's eyes were different- clearer, calculating- not nearly as forceful or overwhelming. But in its inquisitive cold way it was frightening- he was staring at her as if he wanted to slice her to pieces, as if he were a moment away from forcing a blade right between her eyes.

After a moment that seemed endless, he withdrew from her with an almost disinterested languidness to his gaze. But the smile on his lips was stuck somewhere between annoyed and almost pleased. "Hmph. Not quite so helpless after all are you?" She held her breath, nodding so vehemently his lips twitched.

"Very well, I suppose we have reached an impasse for now…and for the moment I cannot afford to let my own personal opinions interfere with our best interests. In any event dear Orihime, we are reluctant comrades. So let us get along well, yes?"

He held out a hand to her, and she eyed it warily, remembering the dark in her ear. What if this handshake turned out to be a vice grip of death? Or what if the moment she let her guard down enough to take his hand he broke her wrist and then snatched her eyeballs? Admittedly, prime time TV dramas had prepared her for everything but this- the truth of a very real fear in her chest. But he had said it himself- comrades. And he would not hurt her. But something told her it was more than that-deeper. He…_couldn't _hurt her. He was not…allowed. But he took her hesitancy for something else-weakness?-and grinned.

"Oh yes of course- would an apology appease you? Don't be absurd, surely you know better by now than to expect more than that. We Arrancar have little regard for human sensibilities."

He was right…and she knew an apology from a man like this would be many things, but comforting would not be one of them. Warily she reached out a hand in return, giving his own cold one a quick shake.

"I...forgive you, but I still don't trust you," she admitted honestly, surprised that she did not feel guilty about the admittance. Although it was the first time in her entire life she could recall being on the other end of such an uneasy truce.

"As you wish." He shrugged easily, seating himself in a chair at her side. She blinked with surprise, unable to stop herself from instinctively moving as far away from his side as the cot would allow. "Nonetheless, there are more pressing matters. You and my brethren seemed to have made quite the mess of things, you agree?"

Her face flushed immediately and she paused in the middle of her awkward shuffling, cheeks warming with a shame she could not douse quick enough. It took only a moment for her to recall it- the black in his eyes, rolling from between his lips…and the hot scent of scorched flesh, of blood.

"I didn't mean to!" she yelled out instantly, a decibel too loud, before her good sense or the chain could stop her. "It was an...accident," she murmured quietly, eyes focusing on everything but his.

"An accident?" He pursed his lips, letting a thin stream of smoke billow from between them. "Dear girl…there are no such things as accidents."

She begged to differ, struggling to explain herself beneath his scrutiny.

"But he…saw me and…I…I was feeling really weird, and I could see…you know..."- for a moment her hands danced vaguely through the air, like fluttering birds."-The hole. I asked him how he got his. And for a moment he was really surprised! Like when you think your friends forgot your birthday but catch you off guard with a party surprise. And then…then...he got really angry. It was like something inside of him…broke." She floundered, uncertain if the term properly conveyed the feeling. Of '_**be a good bitch and die for me.'**_

"And then he tried to…he tried to..." she trailed off, unsure how to voice the remainder. Because it had been the moment in which she could remember thinking, through the pain, through the adrenaline coursing through her veins, looking into his eyes and just thinking…_he was going to devour the light inside of like_…a shudder ran down her spine, so that she grasped at her arms to draw them close.

Syazel watched her carefully, golden eyes gleaming at her over thin frames at the unconscious movement. He sighed, pausing a moment to haggardly rub at his temples with a free hand. His expression was almost…worried, if she dared label it as such. But worried implied he cared, when instead he seemed rather…disappointed.

"Ah…now I see. How…unfortunate."

Her gaze snapped up to his as he began to drift off, the tone of the words making a sudden alarm ring in her head. But the chain was cold- the dark sullen and silent. The implications of the words were vague, beyond her range of understanding- but the very tone of the phrase made her wary.

"But…why? I don't…understand." She began carefully, struggling to comprehend the apprehension that was making her anxious.

His golden gaze was shut off and unreadable as he took another slow drag of his cigarette, making her eyes smart and her throat burn. She wanted to tell him to stop, that lung cancer was real and killed people, but that was beginning to seem like the least of her concerns. And she was certain it was the least of his.

"I suppose this is as good a time as any. Pay attention girl. It is time for your first lesson."

He dropped the cigarette onto his floor, callously grinding it beneath his heel. She perked up as he straightened his posture, folding his hands together in his lap.

"Arrancar are ingrained with a few of man's most original sins- it was from that darkness in our once mortal hearts from in which our hollow forms were born. And at any rate, it is plague that never leaves us. There is no rest while the hollow lives, there is only the constant reminder of that sin. Although I dare say none of us remember the original darkness that made us monsters, but the hollow will not allow us to forget- and to this day we pay for that mistake. It's all quite melodramatic, I assure you. The kind of curse that makes great fodder for tragic theater."

She listened carefully, nodding slowly even though she quirked an eyebrow at the whimsical tone in his voice. He said it all as if he had been spinning a fairytale for a sleepy child at bed time, but the story itself seemed far too somber to cause pleasant dreams. More like nightmares. And she could feel the dark at her shoulder- silent- and the voices murmuring wordlessly in her ear.

"We Arrancar are…well-" he smiled for moment, pausing only slightly before he continued."…it would be easier to say that for the moment there are some rather 'interesting' circumstances that permit us to exist in this mortal world. But there are of course, strict regulations we must follow in order to maintain that turbulent existence. To 'live' as mortals- we must keep that sin, the hollow, under tight control. We must feed frequently to maintain these forms, and above all we cannot lose ourselves to our hollow like tendencies. To do so is not beneficial for any of us. And by now I am sure you know what Grimmjow's curse is?"

He gave her a smile like a knife, sharp and cold at her throat. A shiver ran down her spine- the scent of blood and sand. The wild smile of animalistic pleasure on his face. "Destruction." She stated quietly. His smile widened, as if he was reveling in the somber note in her voice.

"Good girl. And one can only assume there was a moment- however brief it might have been- where he wanted to end…something. One can only assume it was you. And that desire was so strong in that moment that it overwhelmed him, and his sensibilities. What remained of his sanity and self control shattered completely. Quite a normal response actually- he simply wanted to ruin you beyond repair."

The words made her gulp harshly in her throat_, _and there was some strange something that felt like sadness. '_He...wanted to ruin me beyond repair. To end me.' _She didn't want to believe in a reality so harsh, when the man who had saved her would severely regret the mistake...and try to rectify it. Syazel's smile was pleasant as he said it- his tone rudely conversational, as if such a thing were common place. As if...such a thing were of little concern. _He had wanted to end her. _And the words were all the more bitter because they rang true. She had seen it, in his eyes- he would have torn her to shreds, annihilated her completely if he had not been stopped. There would have been nothing left of her. The thought made her blink quickly at tears her weary body could not produce.

"But I…don't understand. Why? Was it because I'm…one of you or…" Was it because she was so worthless, so helpless? Did he know her as well? That when stripped of her title, her prestige, her accomplishments and popularity that in the end she was simply…not even worth the space? She tried to remind herself that she _was _strong, that had proven herself, but the self doubt brewing in her heart could not be smothered so quickly. Voices in her ear- serene and calm. *_Remember the promise you made to him.*_ Gruff, strong. _**'Don't fuck this up girl.' **_Syazel laughed lowly under his breath at her question, a sound of barely subdued mirth in his words.

"_Why?_" He seemed almost amused at the audacity of the question, and at the ignorance of it. "Why does a wolf howl at the moon? Why do mortals continuously lament the cruelty of fate? Questions! Questions!" He reiterated carefully, with an idle flip of his hand, brushing the bangs from his face with an almost frustrating sigh. "Do you still not understand? We are unstable creatures. Allow me for a moment if you will- I offer myself as a prime example. I can gain your confidence, abuse your trust, converse with you normally- a moment apart from mulling over all of the ways I could peel the flesh from your bones."

Instinctively she flew backwards, with such violence that she almost toppled off of the small table. His smile grew brighter at her wariness, approving her involuntary fear a moment before he smothered it.

"It could have nothing to do with you. It could have everything to do with you. He- or what remains of him- is the only one that knows," he finished carefully, giving her a moment to let the words settle between them.

"You must not forget- the hollow is always just below the surface. And as long as we 'live' in this realm- it is apart from us. It has its own desires, its own whims, and its own code. We are the reflections, the extension of that will. But at the root- is that beast. On the other side- we are free to revel in that power, to use it how we wish. But here, we are contained, bound. It is only there that we can truly be free."

'_The beast?'-_she felt another involuntary shiver race down her spine. She had…seen that for herself. She had met the dragon, in the dark of the abyss. She could hear the rattle of the chains binding him in the darkness. The wings aching for flight. Eyes like dying stars. The scent was still fresh in her memory- hazy and ancient, like the air inside of a forgotten tomb. The eyes that had known her like the man had not. That she knew well…but she dared not speak of it, of that sacred moment. Especially not to a man who could so easily use her in a way more cruelly than she had ever known. **He**…was cold, and just as cruel. But it was cruelty without pretense. It was the biting edge of the truth she did not want to face, being shoved down her throat. But Syazel's cruelty was all the more bitter because he had presented himself as more than a monster. The cruelty of the liar with the cunning of the thief who steals in broad daylight.

So she said nothing of that time in the dark, surreal and fading fast into the dark of her mind. Noticing the inquisitive look in his prying eyes at her extended pause, she hurried to speak lest he ask her a question she was ill-prepared to answer. But it was hard for her to focus on just one of the vague explanations to question him about.

What was the other side exactly? What did he mean by free? And…why were they here? To what ends, and for what purpose? Quickly trying to question him before his interest wavered and he gave up on her in disgust, she asked the first one she could think of.

"Then…why not go back? Why stay here?"

But instinctively she knew the question had been a moment too late- those golden eyes no longer stared at her as if she were an interesting commodity. Instead, he gave her a callous glance like she was nothing but a chore. He waved her question off idly as he drew himself upwards, a bemusing smile of arrogance etched into the lines of his face.

"…Another time perhaps. I've already said _far _too much you know. The chain will tell you when it is time, I suppose."

"B-But-" she began to argue, lifting her body upwards, eyebrows furrowed and mouth set as if she were seriously considering jumping him. (Which she was.) But he turned his head away from her, turning towards the shadows of the room. Hurrying to regain his attention before it deviated from her completely she asked the last thing of absolute importance at his retreating back.

"And…what about…Grimmjow? Is he okay? I hope I didn't…hurt him? Will he be…"

"Questions, questions!"- he interjected smoothly, a sound almost like laughter echoing in his words. "That matter is no longer in our hands. Rest easy now, dear girl, lest you make yourself sick with worry. Grimmjow is currently indisposed for the moment, and let us leave it at that."

"_But-!"_she was almost surprised at the begging note in the words, the way her hands wrung in her lap as she leapt towards him, nearly stumbling from the small bed onto which she so precariously balanced. But those golden eyes flashed at her from behind thin golden frames, the look casually thrown over his shoulder so cold for a moment that she choked the remainder of the words in her throat.

"I am finished with the matter. And you would do well to adhere to my wishes. I am not allowed to cause you physical harm, but there are other ways…none of which are pleasant."

And he left her with that last warning, a low hiss of disapproval buzzing in her ears. The gruff voice, murmuring in her ears._**'Arrogant little shit.'**_

And as Syazel leaves her in the darkness, even though she is far from the cursing type, she still couldn't help but agree.

* * *

She went to school the next day with a smile on her face. She greeted everyone she met with a grin, the sound of her boisterous laughter echoing through the halls. But she wasn't faking it, as she barrel rolled into class, grinning widely. When her classmates crowded around her-

_Huh? What was that? Where had she mysteriously gone in the middle of the day? She'd left her bag- her keys- her phone- half strewn across some table in the middle of class. Pfft! Class? But the day had been so beautiful? How could she not enjoy it? The sun, the wind, the blue sky had been calling her name! She was a child of the wild and the spring! She'd gone galloping away to an open field, and sung until the sun went down!_

And her cheer mates- _haha, had she really missed practice yesterday? Flapjack had been on, it was her favorite! So what if she was getting too old for cartoons? Did know one else grasp the full societal implications of a young child being raised by a whale and a grumpy peg legged pirate? It was magnificence in its purest form!_

She brushed off their concerns with poise and grace- or fumbling laughter and outlandish tales. _Why was she so late to class? Well she'd left the stove on! Can you imagine? It just hit her on the way to school that she'd forgotten to turn off her coffee pot, and poor Mrs. Mimi wouldn't ever even know! So she dashed home,- too late! The stove was in flames! Armed with a wet mop as her blade and her apron as her shield she had valiantly tackled the red beast! Single handedly she had faced down the flames, she had wrestled with the monster made of smoke and fire! For hours they had clashed, battling- singed hair, smog attacks, amongst a battlefield of smoke- until she had emerged victorious!_

_But Orihime? Why didn't you just call the fire department? Orihime! That's too dangerous! Why didn't you call one of us?! Orihime! You can't keep doing things like that you'll hurt yourself! Orihime! You have to be careful class wouldn't be the same without you! Orihime-_

She stopped herself before the fade- scrambling to keep herself together as twenty odd faces of concern were shoved into hers. Sheepish laughter. What was the point in that? The mighty Orihime bowed before no one! More laughter, good natured pats delivered to her shoulders, the top of her head._That's so like you Orihime! You don't give up easily! We should have known! We can always count on you to brighten our day Orihime! Glad to have you back!_

_'That's right_,' she thought as she grinned, laughed, and shared stories half gibberish with a dash of good natured nonsense. She forgave them for not knowing- and was generally appreciative of their concern, loath to question it even if she knew the truth behind it._He always cheated off of her tests, and they had a pop quiz tomorrow. Her cheer mates- none of them had probably even went to practice…and if they had what half hearted work had they done?_

But those thoughts were better left alone.

Truth was that despite her pestering, Syazel had refused to budge even the slightest. The room shrouded in dark, its location was one she did not know- he had made her close her eyes. He had said it had been to spare her, and through the fumbling walk in darkness she knew of nothing but the strange sterile scent of cleanliness that clogged her had simply led her back to her room, and to her surprise she had found it completely spotless, looking as pristine as it was before she had blown Grimmjow out of her third story had been out of place- and his cryptic smile as he bid her adieu had not been helpful. She did not know much about the man- but she knew he could not be trusted. She had always been the type to trust openly, shamelessly, to forgive and forget. But he…was different, and she could not understand why. For whatever reason, the chain had warned her of him. And that in itself was cause for worry. But she pushed that to the back of her mind, for another sleepless night.

Because…she noticed other things. Strange things.

The way Rukia kept her silence today, her distance. The small girl was quiet- her eyes somewhere no one could reach her. She made half-hearted attempts at humor for appearances sake, but things…weren't the same. The way Ichigo's loud brash voice seemed- timid- when he greeted her. Strained. Unnatural. Uryuu didn't sew between class periods like usual, and she caught a glimpse of the bandages meticulously wrapped around his hands. For the first time since she'd known him, Chad had worn long sleeves. Simple things she thought. _Simple things_- but none of them met her eyes. Their eyes were trained onto things she could not see, gazes lost in the sky, the clouds- eyes that didn't raise beyond open textbooks, limp hands on desks, scrawling aimlessly across still blank pages. She noticed.

The way they…felt. Different. She didn't know why but…the very moment Rukia had walked into the room, every single hair on her head had seemed to stand on end. The scent- of burning incense and candle wax. A shiver, running down her back when Ichigo touched her, so that she had jumped and nearly dropped her things out of her arms. But it wasn't like _his _touch- not a cold lingering chill that made goose bumps break out on her arms. This was like a sudden bolt of heat arching along her spine, tingling and warm. And she was quick to look- but she didn't see him, and didn't hear the rattle of chains.

And she would blink haggard eyes, and could have sworn they _glowed ,_a faint tingle of something lingering in the air when they drew close, something _clean _and _new _so that she almost stuck her tongue out to taste it.

But she tried not to think about these things, tried to make them go away, tried to will them away. She had been the one who had changed after all, she was the one being strange. The voices said nothing of this- the strange voices that she had accepted so easily that it was borderline insane. It was best to ignore the signs. Of weird things. Odd things.

* * *

"He's gone," she began hesitantly, the more commonly known mirth of her words overshadowed now by the straightforward calm that she had once been renowned for. In another time perhaps…but this had not been a better time, nor an easier one. But then...she had been in full possession of all that she was, in command and control of herself and her power. But now- with a smile she could acknowledge her own weakness, but her pride stung her in the depths of her being. A valiant pride, the pride of the warrior who fights for what she believes, a noble pride being squandered in this world.

"Fuck, do I care?" He scoffed aloud, long arms and hands wrapped firmly around still quivering thighs. She leaned against the closed door quietly, eyes tight as she watched without comment. Although the pain the vision caused her could not be measured in words or feelings. It ran deeper- so that it transcended descriptions as trivial as 'feelings'- those were for mortals who had not lived long enough. This is raw, agonizing, without mercy or mindfulness. He feeds from the woman as if she is worth less than nothing, the groveling, squirming female in his bed. The smug grin on his face is one of absolute contentment- not because he is satisfied- but because of the sheer pleasure he gains from the act. The sheer pleasure he gains from _knowing_- that he has ruined one more female, put one more inferior being in their place. It only served as further reaffirmation of the food chain that constituted their lives. She feels her face grow tight, although she is certain her eyes are filled with more pity than sorrow as she speaks.

"You would do well to mind your feeding habits. Lately your choices have been potentially compromising. Ulquiorra-"

"Bah!" He scoffs again, wagging his tongue out at her, eyes narrowed and callous as he holds the squirming female in his grip- and she does not imagine the sound of the woman's bones snapping like twigs. She keeps her face calm, even though her hands grip her forearms, too tight for a moment to be reflex. But she has loosened their grip by the time he has met her eyes.

"Don't bullshit me girl. The fuck do you care what I fucking eat? I'll have whatever the hell I like."

She grits her teeth, feeling her brows narrow over her eyes, but her voice is steady and unmoved. "And is that what you thought when you saw her? That you could have whatever you like? And do whatever you please? Did you learn nothing?"

His hand is around her throat in the next moment, the grip firm, tightening to a point beyond pain. She does not flinch, even when his grip tightens, even when his narrow eyes flare at her with hate so intense for a moment that it makes her pause. He stands before her, the length of his lanky form covering her in his shadow, grinding his fangs with such purpose that instinctively her spiritual pressure spikes in reply.

"Bitch," he grinds out through clenched fangs, eyes wild as he leans his face closer to hers, the fury in his voice so potent it is almost tangible. "I prefer pretty bitches like you wide eyed and quiet." The grip on her throat- she can feel the threat, the illusion of power his strength provides. In many ways she knows it to be true- she has seen his might for herself. But more so than ever she is disgusted by his blatant display, his knowledge, his exploitation of the fact that as she is currently she is hardly in the position to put him in his place. But the very reminder of her power is one neither of them can forget, and she can imagine the way his pride squirms in his chest at remembrance of the shame dealt to him by her hand.

"No, you prefer me this way because I can't challenge you. Allow me to assure you that you are hardly worthy of the effort. A beast like yourself was never a worthy opponent."

The concrete to the right of her head explodes, the cement crumbling around his fist with such ease that it should have been cause for concern. But her eyes do not flinch or waver at his violence, seeing the wrath in his eyes, grinding his jaws together so intently that she can smell the stagnant odor of his blood, hot and black in his mouth. And she can smell it on his breath- and the scent of the woman dying in his bed when he draws near. He presses his body against her, firmly, violently- ramming her form into the wall with such intensity that she wonders at the sound of the wall giving away beneath her. His mouth is at her throat- the heat of his breath mirroring the fire in his words as he holds her there, whispering hotly into the shell of her ear.

"If we were in Las Noches…you would be on your knees before me at this very moment. And do you know what I would do then? I would bury my face into those pretty titties of yours and devour your fucking flesh. Break those beautiful legs so you couldn't run. Gnaw at those darling fingers so you couldn't fight. Fuck you raw…immobile until you wouldn't even be able to crawl. And even then I wouldn't stop, not even if you _begged _me for mercy bitch. Not until you were a groveling, broken mess. I would drink you dry, fuck you to the edge of death. You can't begin to imagine the pain I have in mind for you. And you would _love _it. You would _beg _me for it. I've broken bitches down to their pathetic cores, and you can be damned sure you're no different."

Like water she flows out of his grip, her hand expertly strikes him across the face with the back of her palm, sending him reeling away from her. Even though she has checked her strength to avoid sending him hurling through pavement, she does not miss how firmly he has to plant his feet in order to remain rooted in his position. He does not seem to mind, even though she could feel the bones in his cheek give way to the blow. Instead he laughs, loudly and abruptly, the sound coming from the depths of that void her brethren know so well- there is madness in the echo of it. There is madness, and there is a choked underlining of something so indescribable she knows he smothers it in the blackness of his rage. He turns and spits violently, black blood staining the flesh of the woman in his bed.

The callousness of the action, the blatant disrespect and dismissal he has for his prey is one that does not go unnoticed. She withdraws her hands, wiping the remains of the burning kiss from her neck with such violence that his eyebrows waggle at the motion.

"I am far removed from the helpless women on which you prey. And in any event I am far stronger than you. And you would do well to remember your place. I am far more merciful than Ulquiorra- I do not believe in using violence where words alone will suffice. I am merely alerting you that I believe something has happened. I'm sure you felt it too...Grimmjow."

And she cannot hide the flicker of sadness that dances through her eyes. She is certain that she alone has this feeling, any remaining compassion there is to be had amongst her brethren. Would they call it a matter of course? Would they curse him for his foolishness, his weakness? She can bring herself to do neither. And the thought alone of hid wild grin, and him- uncouth, as wild and untamed as a stormy wind. There is a moment where she can almost imagine the ghost of a throb in the heart she does not have. There is a moment- but she knows it has no place here. Not in front of _him_, when he could smell her weakness, when he could _revel _in it.

"...I believe that the events that will soon unfold will no doubt test your patience. But you had best mind yourself if you are not prepared to face the consequences."

She turns on her heels to leave him, but she pauses at the harsh bite of his laughter mocking her, even though the sound is sharp with the bite of his fury, tightly restrained. The sound is so striking that she pauses, hand on the doorknob. It strikes her that this sound is brimming with such loathing that it is beyond a human's range of comprehension- but she understands it. She understands the sound of his bitterness, the harsh armor of the pride he wears so well. '_All he has.' _The thought sobering because it is absolute. Truth- is a concept beyond his range of understanding- gone to that black of the abyss with his honor, his loyalty. Nothing left of the man but the black of his despair, the over-inflated ego masking the shattered remains of a broken man. A black heart…black as pitch.

"Turning your back on me Nel? Not even worried that I'll break your fucking skull?"

She reminds herself that it is useless to feel for this creature, reminds herself that it is pointless to expect anything more from him. She has hardened herself when it comes to many things- this is merely another burden for which she must bear the brunt of its weight without complaint.

"As if you could. And you do well to remember that I am your superior. And I do not believe I have ever given you explicit permission to address me with such familiarity."

He laughs again, the sounder louder, harsher. "You should hear the way you call after me! N'tra! N'tra!" He marks cruelly, mimicking the high pitch of her child like voice, and the name that her tongue can barely utter without pause. "The way you scramble after me- the way you try to stop these trifling bitches from following me into alleys and straight into hell. The way you look at me with those wide eyes. Do you know how fucking cute that is? Without you running your fucking mouth and ruining it, you uppity bitch?"

"I assure you it is not done by my own volition. And you are hardly worthy of such concern, that you might as well understand. Regardless of what you may think, you garner none of my passion- the only thing I feel for you is pity."

She opens the door slightly, unfazed by the cold blue gaze that meets her eyes. Blue eyes ask what she does not say, cannot say. She shakes her head quietly in reply even as Nnoitra's last words mock her from behind.

"One of these days Haribel isn't going to be there to protect you bitch. Wait for me until then. And then…I'll give you a taste of what hell is like. I'll break you like I should have back then. I'll break you so thoroughly, you won't even have the strength to scream, the strength to resist."

For a moment she feels like laughing, although the sound would ring with nothing but a long lost sorrow.

"That day will never come."

* * *

_He misses nothing. He regrets nothing. He wants for nothing. He desires nothing. He began in the black of a pit- void of sound, void of feeling- with nothing but sight. The nest. Not a place of birth- a place of creation. Perhaps it was no accident that led him to the bush, scorching the armor from his frame- cracking the mask. The feeling…it could hardly be labeled as such. He did not dream, nor desire such things. The folly of remembrance was one on which he did not dwell._

_All turns to ash in the end. All fades with time. The only truth that exists in the empty of the void is the one he can see. And there is only one thing he cannot allow himself to forget. The Last Order._

_He does not even feel the weight of the steel in his hand, but he knows how it will look, encasing the small of her wrist. A cold silver band, without end or beginning, reminding her of the fate she could no longer escape._

* * *

_AN: HAPPY NEW YEAR GUUUUYS! Thanks to my lovely beta, TheCatWithTheHat for helping me again! Maybe I'll even get around to finishing this year hurhur (not likely) but any who I was asked in a few reviews to give a brief summary of what has happened thus far (and let's face it I seem to have the uncanny ability to confuse the hell out of people so expect one of those bad boys next chapter, where shit is probably gonna get a little real for somebody...ain't saying no names.  
_

_Here in case anyone missed it, Orihime relived some of the conversation she had with Syazel, in which he found out her big bad 'secret'- guess it goes to show you home girl hime really needs to work on her willingness to trust others so easily, she's living in a different world now :p But really I just love the thought of syazel fucking with Orihime's head, somehow I feel as if he would be really good at it. I'm also fairly certain he's a pathological LIAR so even I'm not sure if he means anything he says  
_

_It's been awhile since Nel and Haribel have made an appearance, but I dare say Nel x Nnoitra would be the most interesting dynamic among the Arrancar, and at the very least Nel would no doubt be the most sympathetic to Orihime's plight. Poor girl prolly gonna need it. Thanks for reading and reviewing again, didn't get around to doing too many replies this time but I got you guys for the next chapter! See ya'll then!_


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